One World, No Coincidences
by Liarra
Summary: What if Niko hadn't gotten to Briar? What if he had never even known about him? What if he had become a slave to Enihar? What if he was the one thing that could stop the girls from beating him? What if another boy claimed to be the hero?
1. Chapter 1

One World, No Coincidences  
  
Summary:What if Niko hadn't gotten to Briar? What if he had never even known about him? What if he had become a slave to Enihar? What if he was the one thing that could stop the girls from beating him?  
  
----  
  
"Docks." said the judge in a bored tone. Briar struggled, at least they would remember him. It was the very least. At least someone would remember him. Soon he would be forgotten, like the countless number of those caught stealing three times. The guards' firm hands stopped him from doing any real damage. He couldn't have if he wanted to, they were too strong for him.  
  
They threw him behind bars with the others. Soon they were to be seperated into different groups along the Sotat coast. Briar scowled. This was not going to be fun. He knew it, and they knew it. They all did. There was nothing for them to do but wait throughout the day, until all the trials were done. A few more people were tossed into the pen, but other than that, it had been dull.  
  
Five guards came to the cell with a ring of keys encircling the leader's finger. It was so tempting, all they had to do was reach out and grab it, then they could escape and be free. But they knew that that was just a silly fantasy. The guards would catch them before they could go more than a few steps. They would be watchful of the keys, surely other thieves had tried to snatch it from their hands before. "Get up." The leader growled, kicking them when they weren't quick to obey. He snapped a handcuff on each person's hand, linking them to the next person. "Don't think you'll be able to get out of these, these have been spelled by the greatest harrier mages in the realm!" warned the guards. Many of them just shrugged off the warning, they thought magic to be fakery. A few merchants who had been caught stealing went dead white. Merchants tended to believe in ridiculous things like magic.  
  
Briar found himself at the front of the line, the closest to the guards, and the nearest to those who wanted to harm him. His experience told him that these were not men to be trifled with. They wanted power more than anything, and this was their way of getting it. Pushing around helpless people 'till they felt like dropping to the ground and dying.  
  
"We're walking!" cried out the guard. A series of moans issued from the group, and those who did so were cuffed. "I do not tolerate insolence! Those who are around me will be respectful to their betters, understand?" he said the last word with a sly note on his tongue. This man reminded Briar of a snake, slithering around without legs strong enough to support himself, making small warning sounds in the grass, but when heed was not taken, he ould strike the innocents.  
  
The long walk to the various ports seemed to take forever. Days turned into months, and months turned into more. It took long periods of time to get far away on foot. Even across a country. Briar was beginning to think it would take years. He kept him mind blank, willing himself not to think of the future. He would rebell whenever he saw the excuse or the chance. He set many of his walk-mates into hushed laughter near the beginning, but near the end, they no longer found anything to laugh about.  
  
Soon their numbers dwindled from over fifteen, to the small number of three. They were to arrive at the last port, the leader had informed them. "Then we're going to take a nice first class boat home." then they all cackled, as though it were incredibly funny. It was bad enough when they ate those rich, delicious-smelling meals right in front of them, and they couldn't even move forward for a whiff without being beaten, but now they were telling of the luxuries on the boat. All you can eat buffet lines, comfortable seating, beds so plush and comfortable that the Amar himself would die to sleep on it. Many of the thieves mouths were drooling at the thought of food, they rarely got to have any. Once every three days, the guards said, was enough for them.  
  
Briar refused to give them the pleasure of his coveting. Of course he coveted them, but that didn't mean that they had the right to know about it. Briar steered his mind away from it. After all, he thought, a they are pitiful, morte than us. At least we know our station, they like to pretend they're more important than they are. They probably had whining wives at home, a couple coins to their name. Why else would they take this job?  
  
The air of the ocean struck Briar once more. Every time they wandered away from it, the next time he smelt it it always came as a surprise. Some sailors he had asked years ago had said that the stench was only around the beaches, as soon as you left the seaweed on the coast, it smelt much better. The guards marched right through town, hardly even glancing about them at the people who stared openly at the chained thieves, backing away quickly, not wanting to find any of their goods stolen, forgetting that these thieves could not take anything if their wanted to. Their hands were chained and their pockets had been ripped from their clothing, taking things would do them no good, they had no where to put it, and then they would get another beating.  
  
The crowds of people thinned out until they reached a large wooden wall, so tall and straight that no one could climb up it. The wall was coated in glass, slippery smooth so that any dream of getting out would go down the toilet. A guard from inside opened a peephole to have a look. His eyes brightened, but hardly. "You've come at last. We've been needing some more ruffians lately. More ships have been coming in than ever, we sold a whole bunch to some slave traders a while back." Briar shivered. Lakik the Trickster, please don't do that to me. He prayed silently.  
  
The guards ushered them in as the guard at the door told them what cabin they were to be in. Briar smiled. Cabins. That didn't sound too bad, bags sometimes had cabins that they went to over the weekends and on holidays. That was the best time to thieve them. Servants were never very careful, and they often didn't have the power to get an audience.  
  
Briar was assigned to cabin 9.  
  
It wasn't what he had expected. There was a foul reek coming from each of the widely spaced cabins. It was almost as bad as the sewers back home, but he had gotten used to the fainter smell of the above-ground areas. Briar cracked a smile. It smelt like home.  
  
The guards unchained them and booted them into their individual cabins, which was a help, cause Briar wouldn't have been able to tell by the brass nine on the door alone. The cabins were empty, for everyone was away, doing what, Briar wasn't sure. He was told to take the empy bed. The rest had blankets that were ruffled around in a mess. "You'll start to work tomorrow, get rest while you can." said a man who has escorted them inside. He was a big burly man, with a rough beard and kind eyes that had seen too much.  
  
Briar took his advice and slept.  
  
The sleep he had was blissful, who would have thought that sleeping on a cushion would be so comfortable? And he was warm, he hadn't felt warm in months! He slept with a smile on his face. Or, he was, until he was booted awake.  
  
"Wake up ye' bleater!" growled a boy his age. "Yer gonna git us all in trouble, ye hear! Now git up!" he cried, while kicking him in the stomach again. Briar opened his eyes wearily. He was too sleepy for this now.  
  
"Go ter hell." he muttered, wanting to doze off again. Back home, people knew not to mess with him. he was one of the Thief Lords favorites. He said he had a steady hand.  
  
"Go piss yerself!" commanded the boy angrily, his hands clenched into fists.  
  
"Nice te meet ye too." said Briar snidely, getting up with ease. With the amount of walking he had done, he didn't think it possible for him to ever get tired again. Really. Well, last night had been an acception, but all in all he had gotten used to it.  
  
The other boy decided to go for him with a punch to the shin. Briar staggered back, but recovered quickly, getting near enough for the other boy to punch him, but dancing around so there was no way he could come close. Finally, after confusing the other boy well enough, he kneed him in the crotch. It was low, and he knew it, but it did the job. The other boy collapsed to the ground, rocking back and forth, glaring Briar daggers.  
  
"They usually weak as a kitten when they comes here." commented the other boy.  
  
"Well I ain't the usual." Briar gave a deadly whisper, one that could chill any grown man to the bones.  
  
"I'm Dart." offered Dart.  
  
"Roach." replied Briar. He had always hated the name the Theif Lord had given him, but no one argued with him, it often left you dead.  
  
"Pleased to meet ye." said Dart, wincing.  
  
"I'd be pleased te meet ye too, if ye hadn't kicked me as a wakeup call." said Briar.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that." said Dart, struggling to get up.  
  
"It's okay." said Briar with a grin.  
  
"Are any of you pansies up yet?" yelled a loud, booming voice. Those who were not already awake and watching the fight between Briar and Dart were waking up now. No living human could stay awake while he boomed. It was like an earthquake, so loud that whomever was around it shook and trembled until it got what it wanted. When he saw a couple of nods he smiled, a sick, twisted thing for this man. "Good. Cause I want you outside in a straight line in 20 seconds!" ye barked. Everyone jumped and raced outside as he began to count. Briar was the last to get here.  
  
It was better to make mark of his dominance sooner than later. "Being cocky are ye?" growled the man.  
  
Briar just looked into his eyes, that alone was enough to make him flinch. He just had to scare him, make him put his tail between his legs.  
  
"Ah, yer new, aren't ya? You haven't yet been taught who's the boss!" he crowed.  
  
--------------  
  
Author's Note: This came as an inspiration while I felt like writing Circle of Magic fanfiction and I didn't feel like working on my other one. Hope you liked it, I certainly enjoyed writing it.  
  
I'd appreciate it tonnes if you reviewed too. Reviews are just the thing to brighten any author's day. XD  
  
Ciao for now. ·  
  
Liarra 


	2. Chapter 2

One World, No Coincidences  
  
"Watch, and learn." muttered Briar under his breath. "You's da boss round here? Gosh! I'm awfully sorry sir." Briar put on a look of complete innocence. It was convincing, after all, he had been practicing it all his life. He went down in a fluttering bow.  
  
The man rolled his eyes exageratedly. "If I'd'a known I'd be stuck with a pansy, I sure wouldn'ta taken this job." he grumbled.  
  
"Rather me be fierce?" retorted Briar, his sharp ears catching every word. The man's head turned.  
  
"I don't care." he said slowly, as if Briar were particularely stupid. Briar wasn't about to get huffy, it was pointless. He was just some poor guy stuck with a pathetic job baby sitting thieves and crooks, after all. "Come on, all of ye! Yer group is set fer latrine duty this week, thanks to yer li'l friend 'ere." he smirked.  
  
"Thanks a lot." grumbled some poor fellow who tried to kick Briar into the dirt. Briar just elbowed him with his sharp, bony, elbow and smiled innocently.  
  
"Was that me? Sorry." he said mockingly. As the group left the poor boy standing there, dust rising from the ground and circling around in the air before falling to the ground. He rubbed his sore stomach, then followed the dusty trail to where the group was.  
  
"Yer to dig the latrines. It's simple enough that even the dumbest of ye dolts can do it." he said, tossing each of the a shovel. Some of the boys dropped it clumsily, their dull reflexes what had gotten them here in the first place. Briar caught it with ease, after all, he did have steady hands. Quiet ones too, you could hardly hear the slap of the wood against his hands.  
  
A lot of the new thieves relaxed instantly into the stench of the latrines, the older ones clutching their nose in disgust. The new ones snickered at the older ones. "Well," said Briar, trying to ease the time, "I'm new 'ere, so I'm not knowing any of yer names. I'm Roach." he opened.  
  
A couple people looked at each other in disbelief. Who was this idiot? Dart saw their glances and volunteered, "I'm Dart." Roach nodded gratefully, despite the fact he already knew the name of his fellow.  
  
"I'm Fleetfoot." said a quiet dark haired girl. She was tiny, her bones seemed as though they might break if anyone were to touch her. She was strong, though. She was shoveling huge amounts of dirt from the ground.  
  
"Barley." grunted another. This one seemed to loom protectively over Fleetfoot. He was tall with hair the color of an acorn. He was huge, the tallest person Briar had ever seen in his life. However the name was... plain weird.  
  
"Why Barley?" he questioned. No use keeping oneself in the dark.Barley turned so his other shoulder was showing to Briar. Imprinted on his arm was a single barley plant, the insigma of a farmer slave. "Oh." said Briar.  
  
"Drojan." said a tall, skinny boy who looked about thirteen or so.  
  
The people left were those who had wrinkled their noses at the smell of the latrines. "Sameron." said the first one in a very refined voice. His clothes were as tattered as the rest, but if one were to look closely they would be able to tell they had once be finely made.  
  
"What're you in for?" questioned Briar, they rarely ever arrested a noble.  
  
"I was caught with dragonsalt." he said sharply. Some people drew in their breaths, dragonsalt was the strongest drug around, and it turned it's users insane."I didn't use it, mind. I was holding it for my elder brother," he sniffed. Briar stared at him incredelously. He could not believe that after being her for a while he still had not gotten used to hanging out with bums.  
  
"No wonder you're in here." muttered Drojan. Sameron rolled his eyes in a very regal way.  
  
"What about you two." said Briar, pointing a thumb at the last two. They were two girls, each holding the other's hand.  
  
"Saphron." said one.  
  
"Emerald." said the other. Briar studied the two closely. They looked identical. They sounded identical. it was utterly eerie. But they sure didn't look like criminals.  
  
"What're you two in for?" asked Dart in disbelief. He had never seen the two before, as he and Fleetfoot, Barley, and Drojan had been transferred to this cabin due to violence with another couple of people.  
  
"A joint attempt theft of the royal jewels." they echoed. "What are you in for?"  
  
"A scarf." said Briar, turning a bit red. Compared to the others, his crime was nothing. He felt like he hadn't properly earned his way in. A lot of these people had been shipped in here on their first crime, him, he had to get three.  
  
"That's nothing." said Dart in disbelief. He had been convinced that Briar had done something utterly terrible to get him into the docks. But then again, his group was a remarkable bunch. Somehow they had just happened to mesh some of the worst criminals in the same cabin. Somehow he couldn't believe that was a good idea.  
  
"Slug was on lookout. Our gang leader was set on puttin him on lookout cause he wasn't good at nothin' else, but it turned out he wasn't good at lookout either. He was bloody lookin' at us!" Briar growled, thrusting his shovel extra hard into the ground. "Bloody idiot only got his second x! Didn't even get sent to the mines or nothing!" he mutilated the dirt of the latrines, squishing it around until it was reduced to nothing but mud.  
  
The twins looked at his puddle with utter disgust. "Gross." they quipped.  
  
"You were in a gang?" asked Sameron, turning up his nose in disgust.  
  
"Yeah. Got a problem withat, bag?" growled Briar.  
  
Sameron drew his head up and crumpled his lips together as though looking down at something particularely disgusting, but finding it unworthy to his greatness. "Actually, I do. Gangs run amock in a city, stealing things, making war against each other. I think that they are just looking for a way to spend their miserable lives before they die, some way or another. You, you will die here. With me. With all of us, all because of your little gang." he said menacingly.  
  
Briar jumped him. Sameron crumbled under the sudden weight of another on his back. Briar began punching him, punching him so hard, all his strength passed through his hand.  
  
"Roach!" cried Dart, pulling Briar's arm in an attempt to stop him from beating Sameron to a pulp. He nodded to Barley to give him a hand in the battle. With someone holding him back with each arm, Briar was finally pulled off of Sameron. Sameron began making some very unseemingly gestures in Briar's direction. "You know what?" said Dart, sighing. "Maybe we should just... dig."  
  
The others each nodded in turn. It was a good idea. This way they wouldn't completely mutilate each other. Or, rather, Briar wouldn't kill Sameron.  
  
------  
  
The days dragged by that week, partly because Sameron and Briar were extremely tense with each other, and partly because Drojan felt inclined to tell everybody everything about his past, including the numerous times he went to the market with his mother, each time told in great detail. This was particularely painful for Dart, Fleetfoot, and Barley, having all heard it before.  
  
Eventually they cleaned out the latrines. After all, seven days is enough time to work on that. However, that duty would never be completely finsihed, considering the crime everyone took part in here. They insisted on going to the washroom. This, Briar felt, was a crime. An absolute crime. He felt ready to throttle every person who passed through the doors for any other reason than to help clean up. Not only that, but he had to watch. Of all things! 'Course he had seen it before, but did that mean he had to see everyone?  
  
The day they finished their duties the first thing Briar did was jump up happily. His friends just laughed at him. That was the first time Briar had really gotten a good look at the camp. It was divided into little wooden cabin and a couple huge ones. The ground beneath them was dust dry. Briar found himself wondering when the last time it had rained had been. It hadn't in the last week. The air was hot and humid, which most likely was one of the things that got people here.  
  
People were walking around the camp freely, for it was known that no one could leave the gates unless one of the guards let them. Escape was so rare that it was considered impossible to normal folk. The people were a complete contrast to his friends. They walked sketchily, their bodies tense and ready to take any punishment thrown at them. Big men walked around with wips in their hands herding the others as though they were sheep. Several people looked like they still had life in them, but it was hard to find them in the massive crowd.  
  
"What's wrong with 'em?" whispered Briar. He knew that no one lived long here... but he hadn't realized that the people would be dead before they died. He thought they would only die on their dying breath. He hadn't realized just how wrong he was.  
  
"They're scared." whispered Fleetfoot.  
  
"That's stupid." grumbled Briar.  
  
"No it's not. They don't know if they're going to die today or if it's gonna be tomorra." she said quietly as though it were breaking her heart. That's what he loved about her, she was so softspoken and sweet and she cared about everyone and everything equally. Heck, she was even kind to nobles. Even the guards loved her. Although, that wasn't necessarily a good thing. He would have taken her if he hadn't known she had already been by Barley.  
  
"We didn't know that on the streets either!" he growled. "You never do! If they're gonna die, they may as well do it happily! What good's'it if they go about dying with a grumble!"  
  
"I guess you're right, but maybe it just hurts too much." she said.  
  
"Huh?" said Briar.  
  
"Maybe, it's not only being whipped, and beaten and hurt, but maybe it hurts knowing that no one would help them if they could, and their own mothers would turn them out now. What reason do they have to go on living? They may as well become an empty shell, devoid of all human emotion."  
  
"Now that is stupid. Life deserves bein' lived." said Briar striding away purposefully. Fleetfoot just stood behind him anxiously wondering where he had went. A hand was placed on her shoulder. It was Barley. She smiled. She loved him so much.  
  
Briar strode through the crowd glancing into each and every person's eyes for a sign of life. A sparkle, a shiver... Anything. He was sick and tired of seeing dead people walk the streets. He wanted to see the living. **Now**.  
  
He flipped through the crowd as though searching through files for the one he wanted. Dead, dead dead, he thought, dead, dead,dead, dead, dead, ha! Alive! As the person began leaving him he pounced. "I'm Roach, who're you?" he asked.  
  
"Uber." said the person slowly.  
  
"Uber, come to cabin nine at sundown. You wont be disappointed." he said grinning wildly. Uber just looked at him as though he were a lunatic.  
  
"Right." he said cynically, pulling away from his grasp. Briar let him go, knowing that he would come. It was something to look forward to, after all.  
  
He repeated this several times, every time he saw someone with life, repeating the same thing each time to them. Finally, when he was tired of introductions, he decided to tell his friends about it. After all, they would kill him if they showed up and they had no idea what was going on. It took a while for him to find his group, but he found them eventually.  
  
"Tonight a whole bunch of living people are coming to our cabin. We'll have to be really quiet about it, but I wanted to try it out. I needed to cure the living dead." he explained.  
  
"You know what?" muttered Dart. "You are much to exciting to have around.  
  
Briar just beamed. "Thank you."

* * *

Author's Note:

Hilo everybody! Thank you for your reviews. You know, every time I get a review I feel like writing some more. I love em! R/R!


	3. Chapter 3

**One World, No Coincidences**  
  
Nighttime came quickly after that. Slowly, about fourteen criminals came into the cabin and Briar greeted them each by their name and gestured them to the floor. That, with the seven in his group were twenty one.  
  
When they were all there, sitting on the floor in a wide circle, Briar looked at each of them. "I know ye all know me. I'm Roach. And you? Yer still alive. Every third day we'll meet 'ere and-- I'm not sure." he smiled sheepishly. "Tell e'ryone yer names."  
  
"Uber." Uber volunteered, once again, his voice was slow and cynical, as though everything that he saw here was odd and strange, and it was his job to analyse it all. Drojan cocked his head to the side as though asking why. "I stole vases. Three. At the same shop." he said bravely. One snorted. Briar's head turned to the snorter, and gestured for him to say next.  
  
"Jerico, and I stole a whole bunch of jewlery from a really nice shop, then I stole some jewelery from another shop, and then I was caught robbing some old bag's house." he said proudly. Hanging from his ear was a golden ring that swung about as he moved his head.  
  
"What's that?" asking Drojan, pointing at the very ring that was looped into Jerico's ear. Jerico's cheeky grin faded.  
  
"Enihar the pirate gave it ter me, when I was just a young'n." he whispered soberly. Everyone froze in fear. The very name of Enihar was enough to make grown men quiver in fear and hide under their bedsheets. He was terrored, evil, horrible. They had heard what he had done to captives, and his sister Pauha? She was even worse. She had absolutely no mercy for anyone on the seas, or on land. Lately the attacks had gotten worse and worse, the pirates had begun to band together under Pauha's reign.  
  
Everyone was ready to introduce after that. Nothing could be as bad as the last fellow, and the one after them was surely worse. "So what are we going to do now?" asked a tall, gangly girl with chubby cheeks.  
  
"Just... talk, I guess." said Briar, lying back.  
  
The door creaked open slowly as a boy who looked a little older than Briar with blue eyes and blonde hair stormed in. "Sorry I'm late, Dart old pal. I heard about it and I came, but I was stuck getting something done by Mr. Grouch."  
  
"Leather straps?" said Dart, nodding knowingly.  
  
"Yep. He decided to hit it on my arm to see if it worked well enough." He said baring his arm for all to see, three slashes dribbling with blood upon it. Dart shivered.  
  
"Come 'ere." he said gesturing to the boy. The boy sat down next to him and put out his arm while Dart stripped some of the boy's clothing to make bandages. The boy looked up to see all that were in the room staring at him.  
  
"Ullo. I'm Edmundo. Ed, like." he said cheerfully. Briar frowned. He hadn't invited him here. He had seen him, but there had been something he hadn't liked about him, so he had decided not to invite him.

...  
  
And he kinda felt a bit jealous. Not that he would admit that to himself, mind you, but he didn't like how much attention Dart was paying to him. Dart was HIS friend. It was strange... He didn't feel this way towards any other of his friends, who were all just as friendly with Dart, maybe more, than he was. Briar decided that he had a pretty good judge of character, and this guy was not to be trusted.  
  
He would have to watch this guy.

Their little meetings carried on gathering more and more newcomers each meeting. Everyone enjoyed them, the guards were beginning to notice something different about the convicts, it was so small, so minute, that they couldn't really point it out, but it was there, and it was bothering them.Briar found his cabin group and about seven others all grouped together chopping wood into easy-to-use shapes. They were hardly given any time to learn how, they were just expected to know, and when they got anything wrong, the overseers would promptly bring out the whip.  
  
Briar concentrated with all his might onto that small block of wood. The wood felt so nice in his hands, alive, in a way. He knew that was impossible, because this wood had been torn from it's roots, but he could feel this sprinkle of life coming from it. What if he could make it live again? It'd be lovely with roots in the ground, leaves twinkling around and the sun coming down through the leaves, making soft patterns on the ground.  
  
Screams burst out from the people around him.Briar glanced up. His little block of wood wasn't a little block of wood anymore... it was... a tree! How had he done that? How could he have possible done that. He hadn't even noticed standing up, but he stepped towards the tree, his hand out. He stroked gently, and could almost feel the tree shiver under him.  
  
"Roach... Roach?" whispered Fleetfoot quietly. He turned his head. She looked nearly frightened to death, but he couldn't for the life of him tell why.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
"You're glowing." she cried, choking back sobs. Briar looked at his hands calmly, he wasn't glowing.  
  
"I don't feel like I am." he whispered.  
  
"There's a big glowing circle around you!" she whimpered. "No one can touch you! Get rid of it!" she sobbed, tears streaming down her face, and dribbling down her shirt in tears.  
  
Briar was scared. Why was she scared of him? He wasn't scary! Not to her! He had never done anything to her, or in front of her.  
  
"Stop it!" she cried. He would have-, if he knew what it was he was doing. What could he do? He opened his mind for anything that he might possibly just pop into his head. He closed his eyes and grabbed a leaf from the tree, asking the tree to give it up for him, the tree willingly obliged. He curled it around and held it out before him and sucked all his magical energy into it.  
  
Then he ate it.  
  
He collapsed in exhaustion. Fleetfoot ran up to him, beckoning to Dart and the other to come close, it was safe now. He rested his head on her knees.  
  
_-What have I done? I know it was something big... I am going to get into so much trouble now. What had just happened? I remembered something vague about Fleetfoot crying... why had she been crying? I wished she hadn't been. She is such a delicate, frail person, it hurts a guy to see her cry.-  
_  
"He has magic you say?" asked a man fixing an iron clamp around his arm. "Good thing we have some of these left from when those idiot rookie pirates left all their stuff here, even with all their mage holding gear and stuff.  
  
_-Huh? Magic? He didn't have magic! Why were they saying that he did?-_  
  
"This'll stop any maic he has from being used, so he can go back to normal. I'd throw away that key if I were you. I mean, what if the rotten thief were to find it and do something terrible with it? He might turn the walls into a mass of broken timber."  
  
"Shush, you idiot! What if he heard you!" growled a man. The first one whimpered nervously.  
  
_-What liars. They were spewing lies from their mouths. I couldn't do anything like that, if he could, I would have done it already.-  
_  
"Well, he'll be fine now. All he needs is a little bit of sleep, that was a big magic he just worked. Lets just hope he doesn't do it more often, the more he does it, the easier it will be for him." said the cowardly man.  
  
_-Easier? If I do it more, it'll be easier?-_ a wandering voice within his head spoke up with curiousity. _-I couldn't if I wanted to, I didn't do anything, I can't do anything! I am a normal,average every day thief! I steal for food, and water and anything else. Besides, I can't do anything that a mage can. I never saw little pictures in the fire. I never see the future or anything. I just like plants. That's not special! It's the average kind of thing. I'm not the only person in the world who likes plants, I mean, bags like plants. They've got them all over the place. They're just fooling themselves. I don't have magic.-_  
  
"Lets just hope his magic doesn't escape him. This only stops him from performing it." said the cowardly man with a quiver in his voice.  
  
"Oh stop blubbering you baffoon!" growled the guard menacingly. The coward whimpered. "How can we stop it from escaping him?"  
  
"We can't, not in any way that I know of."  
  
"You're useless." grumbled the guard. "Leave."  
  
Briar heard the soft footsteps of the doctor leaving the building, or the room, or wherever he was. The guard sighed deafeatedly. "1 month and a half to go." he whispered. "Just a month and a half to go."  
  
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Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in so long. -.-' I've been playing the Sims2. It's so awesome. Then once I was done updating I had to go to sleep, leaving absolutely zero time for writing. And the homework! It's EVERYWHERE! It's horrible! Seventh grade is EVIL! But fun. Sometimes. In a way. You know? 8th grade is so close but so far. sigh yeah.  
  
So, Read and review! Thankies! XD 


	4. Chapter 4

One World, No Coincidences 

---

"Wow! How did you make that?"

"I didn't, I got it smuggled in."

"By WHO??"

"A guy here is one of my close friends. I think he got fired the other day."

"No!"

"Yes. I want to die."

"We could still break out you know."

"Break out? DId you just say you know how to break out??"

"Oh my lord! Are you serious!?!"

"Just say God, it's no big deal."

"Someone's breaking out."

"NO! You have to let me!"

"Let me, or I'll kick your but north of Lightsbridge!!!!!"

"What?" asked Briar in the middle of all the hubbub. The people all gethered around glanced at each other anxiously. Yes, Roach had brought them all together, but they weren't really quite sure if they could trust him. What really had he done to earn their trust? Nothing, really. But they had to tell him. He would find out anyhow. But they sincerely didn't want to. Something about him was not quite right. Maybe it was the way sometimes he would just sit on the ground, or that sometimes strange things would leave his mouth. THings unlike any of them would ever say.

"We're going to break out." it was Drojan who finally talked. Another boy nudged him rather harshly in the side. Drojan toppled to the floor almost immediately. Drojan thought little of it, being the forgiving person that he was.

Briar's eyes shone with a curious light. No one got out of the docks on their legs. It was either leave as dead, or stay as alive. There was no other choice. But sometimes there were breakouts. It was so rare, and so few actually succeeded, that he hadn't even thought of it. But if he could... then just imagine."How?" he whispered. Everyone looked at each other.

"Well, you see we're going to..." began the person with the plans, gesturing for everyone to all close in.

---

"I see some inmates climbing up the walls."

"Got it."

"Let them think we can't see."

"But what if one gets across."

"They won't."

---

Burning, it hurt. Burning. Searing through their skin. They screamed as the toppled from the top of the walls. It hurt, it hurt. They could barely breathe. Their eyes rolled to the top of their heads searching for release from the searing pain scorching up their arms and down into their legs. It burned so hot and fierce they could barely breathe, liquid was out of their reach. Tears fled down their cheeks. In some you could see right through their hands, and in others they had none, their hands having been burned through by the jelly.

---

"Should we get them doctors?" asked one worried soldier on the edge of the camp. The general looked at him with scorn.

"Doctors? These are criminals. They deserve to die." he growled angrily. He hated to be near such filth. But it was the only way to earn any money, Sotat was a harsh place. Many did not realize it, but he had traveled a bit during his life time, but he was unable to stay in more pleasant places.

---

"Some of them survived. Wonderful. Doctor, did you have to ruin my day? That was cruel of you." growled the general. Red blush came to the doctor's face.

"I didn't mean to upset you sir. I Just thought you had a right to know."

Briar opened his eyes slowly. Every bone in his body was tired, every bit of skin and muscle was in pain. The time before came in a flash. Their plans had been carried out. He faintly remembered seeing... people falling! People screaming? They kept burn jelly atop the walls! That's why they screamed. Quickly a small gasp filled his lungs. That too pained him. He felt as though a rock had been shoved down his throat.

Using everything he had he got up. He was on the floor placed next to a whole bunch of other sheets piled on the floor. There was a stench of rotting flesh coming to his nose. Dead bodies. Most of these people were dead. Briar closed his eyes in an effort to calm hisself. He had seen dead bodies before. But not so many. Yes he had. He forced himself to remember terrible gang wars that resulted in situations worse than this. Why were they not arrested when they did things like that, yet they were arrested when they so much as stole a purse. It was wrong.

He pushed his thoughts out of his head. He scanned the area with his eyes for anyone that he recognized. "Barley!" he whispered, walking to him. The sound stirred a few of the people. Barley, recognizing his name, woke up. "Roach. Go now. I think I'm dying." Briar sanned his friend. He no longer had hands. "One thing, though, you know Fleetfoot? Don't let anyone harm her. She's been hurt. Don't let her get hurt. That's all. I think I have a few more hours." said Barley, his eyes beginning to become glazed over. Briar had no idea what he should do, what he could. It only left a blank in his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what he should do. When he opened them, his short time friend was gone.

Briar didn't cry. There was no reason why he should. It was just another death, much like another. No difference. Or, that was what he told himself. AS tough as he liked to think he was, Briar was a mashed potatoe on the inside. Soft.

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Author's Note: What do you think? Sorry I haven't updated in forever.... again. I love reviews! Please review! :D ...... When you type them on here they kind of look evil, neh? Anyways, R/R!!


	5. Chapter 5

One World, No Coincidences 

--

The rain felt gentle across their beaten backs as they tried to stand up straight. They were told to stand up straight, and really had no will to do otherwise. Enahar was coming. He was coming, and they all knew it. Sotat had been dealing with him for years, dealing slaves, gold, and other goods to save themselves. An easy source of slaves were criminals. Criminals nobody wanted, and nobody cared about.

Briar felt like crap. He looked like crap. He felt distorted. It was a strange feeling, knowing that your back just didn't want to hold you up, and that your face just might be mutated into an ugly blob. He hadn't seen a mirror, but he sure felt like a mutant. One thing was for sure, however, he wanted to get on that ship. Nothing could be worse than this place. Absolutely nothing. Not being beaten every day for the rest of his life, not even getting killed or slaughtered. It hadn't seemed too bad on his arrival, but now, now it was a hellhole just waiting to drag him down.

The next string of people came in, Fleetfoot among them. Briar gave her a weak smile. It took her a moment to recognize him, and she held back a shriek. "Roach?" she whispered, running up to clutch his face, "Roach what happened?"

A man behind her pulled her back by the neck of her shirt. "Watch it young lady." he told her gruffly. Unable to stop him, she let herself be taken away. It wasn't far away, of course, just with the other women, but all she wanted at that point in time was to be near someone that she knew wouldn't hurt her. Someone who would be safe to hold on to.

She wanted Barley.

Barley was dead, she knew he was dead. She had seen him die, seen him tell Roach to protect her. She knew he wouldn't break his promise. Roach was a good kid, better than a whole lot of the others in there. Yes, she liked him, but he could never replace Barley. Tiny tears wanted to stream down her face. SHe wanted to break down and cry, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. If she did, she would have to stay here, and there was nothing worse than staying here.

"Sir, I really don't care if it hurts your honor by dealing with him. Sotat has traded with Enahar for years and since then, no harm has come to it." a man dressed in a fancy suit glared down at the commanding officer. Despite the fact that he was in a place with criminals, he was honored to be seeing Enahar again. Of course, if a country gives you something, and something good, of course you'll keep coming back. And thankfully, Enahar respected the rules that he would not plunder Sotat.

"But it's wrong!" he cried, trying to keep his dignity as Enahar's boat came into dock.

"I. Don't. Care." said the captain a moment before he put his game face on. A bright, cheerful smile.

Instead of a gangplank, Enahar set out a few men for him to walk on. It was something only wealthy men could do, would do. The slaves on show took a gulp. They knew not what scared them more, the politician who had come for a visit to see Enahar, or Enahar himself, terror of the seas. Enahar was a thin man with stringy black hair. He had a hooked nose and small, squinty eyes that seemed to look over people, seemed to know who was worthy of his grand prestige.

Behind a woman followed, Pauha, the real terror. She was Pirate Queen, the woman that Enahar followed. Or maybe it was that she followed him. It was not really known. She had steely grey eyes that were always looking from side to side in suspicion. Her dark strawberry honey colored hair was tyed in a knot at the back of her head, a few loose strands jumping up all over the place. She was muscular in a very masculine way, but yet it was known that she would have affairs with men constantly. No man alive could resist her womanly charms, it was said.

To most, Pauha seemed more frightening, but to Briar, it was Enahar who scared him. Nothing had ever frightened him so much in his life.

The two sibling showed no signs of friendly comradie. In fact, it was almost as if they hated each other. They walked a distance apart, as though wanting to keep as far away from the other without being rude.

Pauha walked down the frightened line of criminals, criminals of whom which were mostly children. A flash of anger surged through her, that they could do this to children! They were not criminals! They were fighting for their lives out there, and there governments would send them to a place that would undoubtably kill them! Who cared about those stuffy rich people? What had they ever really done for anybody? But that was the major fault of this society, the poor did not matter. She hated them, she hated every single one of them with a passion. The only reason she didn't come and slaughter them all was Enahar... the bastard. Ever since he had come into the picture he had restrained her, setting up alliances with powerful countries and joining in their pathetic games. All she wanted was to leave and kill every haughty bastard that smirked at her, glanced at her chest, or whispered words to meet her at night. Yes, it was said that she was a woman unaffraid to do natural things, but she would only do it when she picked the man. Really, she hated men. They were... evil. She had thought, when she had been younger, that Enahar was unable to help her when... it happened. She knew now that that she had been wrong. He didn't care. He didn't mind. She hated him.

She scanned the eyes of the criminals. Which ones would she choose to come with her? She always picked one that she liked, and the rest she would pick because she thought they would do what she wanted. She would chose one, and Enahar would choose one. She stopped as one child's eyes grabbed her. They were full of dry sadness that would not spill out of sheer will, they showed knowing of things no woman wanted to know. All of which Pauha knew very well. This child would be her apprentice, her heir to the fortune. She knew it right at that moment, and her first impressions were never wrong. She walked up to the child. "What is your name?" she whispered huskily, tipping the girl's chin up. The girl's outbursting tears flowed backwards.

"Fleetfoot." she whispered. A small, grim smile braced Pauha's lips.

"Fleetfoot? Come with me then, Fleetfoot." she turned abruptly going back to her former position. She cocked her head in the direction that she wished for the girl to go. She obeyed. Pauha would really have to knock her out of that habit.

Briar struggled to stand up straighter, his back aching. Pauha saw his determination and frowned. Determination was not good in a slave, it often led to things such as abandonment and betrayal. To her disbelief Enahar walked towards the boy. She couldn't believe him!

"Such determination is admirable." his eyes glittered as he held up the boy's chin, looking down into his eyes. For a moment fear overwhelmed Briar so much that it choked his breath. But no, he wouldn't let a force such as Enahar overwhelm him. Now that he was aware, he could sense Enahar's power trying to infiltrate him. He would not let it do so. This was HIS body, he was in control. Angrily he threw up a shield. To Enahar it seemed as though a dense wall of vines had thrown itself in front of him. 'Well well well,' he though, 'I have a mage in my mist.' "What is your name, boy?" he asked. The way he said it, however, was hardly a question, it was more of a statement.

"Roach." he said clearly, his voice rising above them. He was not afraid. He didn't know why, but there was no way he'd LET himself be afraid of this man.

"Go up to the ship then, Roach. My men will show you the way to my rooms." Briar gulped involuntarily. Why did he want to talk to him? He closed his eyes a moment before marching up. All he knew was, it couldn't be too bad. After all, they had only just met, right?

Briar felt as though he had been waiting for hours, and when he looked out at the sky to see the deep black of night with the few stars of Sotat he realized it had been. He felt himself drifting to sleep, but forced himself not to doze off, not here, in this room with Enahar. Finally Enahar glid into the room gracefully. He settled himself at the desk without uttering a word, then finally, "You do realize, Briar, that you are a mage."

The shock that came with these words was immense. "NO!" he yelled, most likely waking up the entire ship with the sheer force of his voice. In that one moment he forgot all his training in the art of being quiet and fading into the background so as not to be noticed by those who were supposed to notice him. "No." he said more quietly. "Never. The thief lord would have noticed it." he said roughly. "Someone would have."

"Why do you think you have that iron thing on your arm? So they can restrain your magic. Of course, that isn't as strong as it should be, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to put up that barrier up at all. When they told me one of the criminals was a mage, I didn't believe them at first, but now I know it's true."

"No!" cried Briar, slamming his fists onto Enahar's desk. "No! I'm not a mage! If I were a mage I would have been able to do something! I would have been found, I would be higher ranked! I could be rich! I could steal things with ease! I could-" the force of Enahar's irritation pooling out from his eyes was enough to make Briar cease his speaking. He sat, almost able to read the man's mind. Or, at the very least, knowing what he should do. What he WOULD do it this were the Thief Lord.

"Maybe, maybe not. What I do know, however, is that you are a mage, whether you like it or not, and there is nothing you can do about it. Even if you die, your powers will still cling to your body. The only way to rid yourself of your magic is by the flame." Briar shook. No! This couldn't be happening! "Kuva will show you to you to your room Briar."

"Room?" he asked, without even realizing he was speaking out of turn.

"Speak only when spoken to." growled Enahar. Briar didn't expect it when he felt a cold whiplash of pain strike across his cheek. Something warm and familiar slithered down his cheek. Blood. "Kuva will explain." said Enahar roughly. Kuva took one look at him and shoved him out the door. Briar stumbled backwards, hardly having the strength to stay up. His back had hurt earlier, and now it was his cheek and legs too.

"You will be staying in a room alone because you will be an apprentice to Enahar. However, don't expect the first class treatment for long. He only keeps his favorites for a few months usually, then he gets tired of them. THat's why he's always going out to get new slaves." Briar looked at him questioningly. Kuva drew his finger across his throat in a quick, dramatic, yet meaningful manner.

"What about Pauha?" he knew that Fleetfoot was apprenticed to her. He had to make sure she was safe, he had promised Barley.

"She keeps 'em. She takes pity on them, I think. Don't say that to her though. She might kill YOU. Be careful around her, if you are not in her favored circle you are only endangered. If you are in her circle it takes only two mistakesbefore you're out, and one more to die." Briar felt a chill run up his spine.

"Oh." he mumbled as they reached the door.

"Hey, if you have any questions, you know where to reach me." Kuva grinned. It wasn't a normal smile however, only one side was up. Was he really not smiling?

"No I don't." retorted Briar, still wondering about Kuva's smile.

"You'll find me." this time it look like Kuva really was smiling, his whole face was lit up and everything. But why only one side? Kuva must have realized that he had been staring at his mouth. He began to look uncomfortable, knowing what he was wondering about. Not too long ago, Enahar had paralyzed his one side of his face while trying to tattoo it. The tattoo was there, of course, but the pain and outcome of this was more terrible than anything he could have imagined. It had left him with a slight slur to his words that Briar had taken as an accent and had frozen some of his brain, making it hard to use his hands at times. If it had been anyone else Enahar would have had them killed, but Kuva was... his best friend. His best friend. The one who he cared for more than anyone, someone Pauha highly disapproved of, but was too terrified to say it straight to Enahar's face.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I will. A ship can only be so large, right?"

"Right." ironic, wasn't it, that his best friend gave him his life and happiness and yet took away so much that he wished for? Things, for example, like full use of his hands. Ironic.

---

Briar felt himself being shaken awake roughly by a pair of strong arms. In an attempt to get it to stop he murmed something similiar to "Ow." The arms stopped for a moment, and a chuckle escaped from what Briar assumed was his mouth. Thankful, he began to doze back to cleep. The hands saw this, and shook him awake once more, this time juggling his brains around his head. His eyes snapped open, his body realizing that just because he had gotten a full night's sleep in the last while because no one was capable of working didn't mean that he was still allowed to sleep properly.

"Wake up, Briar." said Kuva cheerfully.

"How can you be HAPPY at this time in the morning?" grumbled Briar.

"I thought you'd be used to this sort of hourse what with you being a top thief and all." the man winked heartily.

"How did you know that?" asked Briar as he rolled out of bed. Frankly, he wasn't too sure how he could keep this conversation going. After all, he was half asleep.

"Oh, I have my ways." he grinned his odd half grin.

Briar glared at the tall, blocky man who woke him up that morning. He didn't answer to his comment. He and Kuva walked along the empty hallways to the slave galley. It was dead quiet, the people there covered in ugly scars upon every inch of there body. There eyes were desolate and empty, there bodies skinny. Some of them, Briar recognized, all of whom were glaring at him with pure hatred. He wasn't used to such hatred directed in full force at him, not from his friends. As he stared around at the glares of hatred he realized sadly, that maybe they weren't friends.

"He's one of Enahar's." said Kuva to a weary old man whose leathery hands were making the slop.

"So he wants extra, eh?" he asked unhappily. As the slaves heard this, their heads raised in jealousy. He, at least, would be treated specially before he died. They wouldn't be. "So be it." he grumbled. Kuva caught the reluctance in his tone. Angrily he raised his whip and brought it down on the old man. He crumbled to the floor and a young black-haired boy scrambled up to him.

"Please, sir! No! Not my grandda! He's old, and weak! Please! I-" Kuva brought down his whip on the boy too. Briar couldn't do anything but watch uncomfortably. Here he was just a pawn, just like he had been with the theif lord, and he knew the way of pawns. Pawns could not change anything. The boy was shaking violently. Uncomfortably Briar took his food from the counter, warily eying the drops of blood. He walked over to a table. No one moved over for him. In fact, they opened their legs so he could have no room. Eventually he settled for sitting on the floor.

The boat tipped onto it's side, now laying on the beach. Almost instantly it bounced back, screams erupting all over the boat from those who still had it in them to scream. Sobs erupted over the room. No one came to sooth them, they were left to wonder. Soon after Briar was sent up to Enahar, as though nothing had happened.

"We begin your lessons today. Ignore the tides. First we will learn meditation. Breath in 7 counts and out 5. Clear your mind." no hello, of course. Enahar was not one to lower himself down to your level in order to greet you.

"What happened?" blurted Briar. Pain rippled through his body. It seemed to last hours threading up and down his weak spinal cord.

"Speak only when spoken to!" growled Enahar. Briar nodded and settled down into a cross legged position, copying Enahar.

---

Trisana Chndler was not happy with her situation. She was getting shipped away agin. A man named Niko had taken her away a week or so ago. To say she was excited would be a lie. She thought this next place might last a month or so.

"Trisana! Your bath is ready!" called the innkeeper.

"Coming!" she called.

---

"I, Sandriline fa Toren, cousin of..."

Daja could not believe she was doing this. She was a noble, and she was a hated Trader! Was she wrong in the head?"

---

A cold slap felt upon Briar's cheek.

---

Author's Note: Do you know how long ago I lastupdated? Gawd, it's been FOREVER! I was up until this morning at two writing this. Oi. -.-' Meet the Fockers actually sounds pretty good. Hmm. is listening to the radio I'm not quite sure what couple I wanna do for this... Hm... What was with the last couple of things? I just wanted to let you know where in the story the girls were. It's 6 months from the time Briar is sentenced to the time that his ship attacks winding circle. Currently, we are at the 3 month point. Just to let you know.


	6. Chapter 6

One World, No Coicidences

The pain seared through her skin like a rapid wildfire. It hurt! She wanted to die. Why didn't it just kill her now? Why? Why must he make her suffer? He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled, his blinding white teeth showing under his lips. She sunk low. Her body was shaking, and she was curling into a ball where nobody could hurt her. Why was he doing this? The pain! Rabid, cruel, evil.

But there was the darkness... Would it help her? Would it be kind? She crawled to the little patch of darkness in the wood, her eyes glazed. She sunk her arms into it, letting it devoure her. It was... It was... she knew not of how to explain it...

There she was. Fishing into his stores. His stores! It was unnacceptable. He should kill her right here and now for that. But then again, his new slaves needed to see an example. And here she was, an example. Conveniant.

"Oi, Roach!" Kuva grinned. Briar's eyes snapped open from his meditation. He could feel the power all around him. He wanted it to leave him... it had given him too much trouble already. Meals were gone to waste when he did anything wrong. One day was enough to teach him absolute fear to the man who called himself Enahar. "Enahar wants you... all of the slaves." he beckoned to the boy who followed his motioning fingers, his heart pounding.

"All of you who are here today. This girl-" Pauha pushed out a young girl, her eyes glazed and hardly comprehending what was happening. " Decided today to steal from our stores. I will not tell you what it was that she stole, for you might then think other things are okay. Starting today for you new slaves, if we catch you doing anything displeasing your fate shall the same as this girl's." She beckoned to Kuva who had a large axe in his hand. The man picked the small girl's fragile body up and onto the ledge of the ship. Holding her body steady he brung the axe down on her head. Blood spurted from the wound, leaving a chill in all observers. A few slaves fainted dead cold. Kuva picked up the dripping head and tossed it into the ocean, then the body.

If you displeased them your fate would be the same. Your body left into the open. "No one may speak of this again!" yelled Kuva, understanding his master's will. Sobs heaved from the crowd. Kuva headed into one sobber's direction and twisted their arms. They howled in pain. His action told all words. Briar merely closed his eyes, unable to belive what he was seeing. His death could be just as sudden, and that would be the end of him. He would die without a tear shed on his behalf. He had never imagined dying this way. Starving to death, maybe, execution, possible, but this was too unbearable for words. At least in an execution tears were allowed to be shed. Anyone who cried for him would die themself. And to think, he though he had a friend in Kuva. What kind of friend would would kill people mercilessly? Where was his soul? Even the Thief Lord showed some regret, if only for his business.

And he had thought that the docks were bad.

"You have power! Don't try and deny it!" whispered Enahar menacingly. The boy Roach was infuriating him. He refused to do anything past meditation. He paced. "If you are not going to do anything with it, you may as well give it to me." he growled. Briar looked away. He didn't want to. It was his! "Draw it out... make it leave your body." cooed Enahar in a hushed whisper. His voice was intoxicated. Briar began to follow his precise instructions. Draw it out. It's a cord, leave the body. "That's good..." he murmered.

He was trying to steal it! Why shouldn't he, he hated it! But it was his! His power... Why should this man get to keep it? It was his, after all. But... he didn't want it. But then, why should this man get to have it? He scrambled with his cord of magic to the edge of the ship. He was at the top, where they always practiced, closer to the sky. He drew in and reached for it all. It wasn't only in him, he found. It was everywhere. His was just the ability to hold it, to keep it, mold it, and recognize it. What he had to do was to stop himself from being able to do these things anymore. He gripped every ounce of magic in him and spun it into a little coild, leaves sprouted out almost instantly. This was his magic, not a magic for anyone else. He swung it in the air, going round and round until he let go. It was gone. Enahar was fuming.

"What did you just do, boy!" Briar looked up at him bravely.

"It's gone. All of it is gone." Enahar could only stare in shock.

"You made it leave? Just like that? It's all gone?" evident rage welled up in the man. That this... boy dared to do what he did was beyond him. "You!" he cried coming up, his bare hands at the nape of his neck.

"Let go, Enahar!" called out Pauha from down below. The waves lapped gently at the ship's shape, a soft coo of seagulls glittering down from the sky.

"Why?" he called, his voice shaking with rage.

"Why do you wish to kill him?" she replied bravely. Admiration puddled into Briar's thoghts.

"He disobeys me, sister! He banished his magic!" It is unforgivable!" Shock was evident on Pauha's face. Wha? She thought. Did she hear what she thought she heard. Did this boy actually give up his magic against her brother. Her brother? The man who always looked down on her, forced her into things she would not think of, for it's result would send disrespect into troops. She cleared all emotion from her face. There was no way she would let this boy die. Maybe on Enahar's turf this would be okay, but not here on her ship. Useless killing was not okay. Ever since she had partnered with Enahar deaths had been so much more frequent in her own crew. She was okay with killing people who she had no reason to be loyal to. Those arrogant bastards in the government, kings, military officers and the sort. But these were her slaves, people whos lives were completely devoted to serving her. Why should she let this happen? It was her ship. Not his.

A steely cold look glinted in her eye. "You will not kill that boy." Pauha announced coldly. The entire ship paused watching the scene. Finally, Pauha had taken her place as the one whose laws were completely obeyed. It was her turn now. Her laws would be laid out, and he would obey them. He was a mage, yes, but she was Pauha, Queen of the Pirates.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked Briar fearfully, knowing it was a stupid question. He would not have done this a year ago, a month ago even. His spirit was being battered slowly and over time it would die without him.. It wasn't rare. He had seen it happen happen before many a times.

Pauha scoffed. "I just stopped Enahar from killing you. Did you think that I did that just to kill you myself? I'm not an idiot, Briar." she looked him straight in the eye, and the sheer force of her eyes made him feel like falling backwards. but he didn't. She was holding him up. They walked through the thin hallways of the ship quickly, Briar struggling to catch up to the fast paced Pauha. "You will be helping the cook." she announced.

"But, won't you teach me?" She raised her eyebrow sceptically.

"You believed that? Well, I have to tell you this, just so you'll know for next time. I will never teach a man." air escaped into his chest. He froze, something about her made one want to croon and hold her close, yet another made him want to run and hide. That was just the sort of person she was, he supposed. He looked down, embarrassed. He could not meet her eyes right now.

She shoved him into the doorless room. "He's going to be apprenticing under you, Marlow." she growled. He curled his lip up in distaste.

"Isn't he Enahar's boy?" he asked. The old wiry man with leathery tanned skin had been cooking for her for years. He, like her, had no respect for Enahar, which was probably one of the reasons why she liked him so much. He knew what Enahar was like and found no reason to fear him, and no reason to give him respect either. Pauha, however, he trusted, he felt no fear towards her but his respect for her was strong.

"He was, but to make a long story short he did something 'wrong' and Enahar tried to kill him."

"And you took him in?"

"Yes. I want you to teach him the skills of the trade."

"That blob of nothing? Why should I?" Briar could see his long, scraggly beard twitching, but would comment on it due to his current disposition. He wished, right now that he had the courage to. Where had it gone? Why was it that it wasn't there for

"Because I told you to. If, after a week or so with him you still totally hate him, give him back and I'll slaughter him. Okay?" The cook looked up, shocked.

"What do you mean, you'll kill him?" he asked shrilly. He hated it when she killed people he knew.

"Well, if you can't find a use for him then..." she dragged on.

"Don't leave me with these decisions, woman! Fine, fine, I'll take the boy." he blurred his lips in exasperation.

"This isn't my food, is it?" she asked, watching the old man's spit drip onto the food.

"Oh, no." he replied. She sighed in relief.

"That's good." she turned and left without any other words. The old man glanced at the horrified little boy, and a small, grim smile passed oer his face. He gestured for the boy to come towards him.

"I guess I'd better teach you to make a sandwich."

"Hey look, it's Mr. Magic!" growled one of his former roomates back at the good old torture camp.

"Oo! His career is budding!" his friend snorted tauntingly. Briar growled menacingly. Bit by bit over the past couple of weeks he had been slowly gaining back his spirit.

Marlow walked up to the three boys and looked around, his eyesbrows raised. "What? Is food not important? This boy's got a talent for it, and I have to say, yes his career is budding. Maybe some rich slaver will buy him to make extravagant meals someday. You'll probably just be working for Enahar forever." the man said cheerfully handing the two boys their slop and a sandwich. The boys looked down, embarrassed. The cook was not somebody to mess with, he decided whether you got your meals or not, and that was the most important thing to them.

The gangly old man shook his head slowly, not wanting to get those dreadful head pains he got. Briar felt his cheeks grow hot, he had come to greatly respect this old man. He could barely keep the smile off his face, but he struggled, knowing that any sign of happiness on this ship would only cause more anger from the others on board.

Other than the old man and the smell of food Briar wasn't feeling too well on this ship. He wasn't quite sure what it was that made him feel so queasy up here. But, there was the hard wood under his feet and hands, and sometimes when he looked out on deck he could see the seaweed bobbing along the top of the water. He wasn't quite sure why this comforted him, it was much like the moss back in the jail cell. It's presence was warm and comforting. Sometimes he would just spend his time looking out across the wide expanse of water. Sometimes, when he began to feel sick to his stomach, he would remember that it wasn't only water here. There was life underneath the surface.

Living, breathing, always, forever, life. And even if it looked like the world was dead down there, there was life below. Life just waiting to be recognised.

-

Do not fear! Today I'm going to post 2 chapters because I feel like it! Dun dun nuh dun! Well, that and I need to get to show the girl's side. They have just all been put into nice old Discipline cottage...

(Press button for more) 


	7. Chapter 7

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: For once I am doing a chapter before I finish the one before it. I know when I post it OWNC6 will be out already, but I am writing this while I have 1367 words (in other words, not finished) on OWNC6. I just felt like doing the girls for once. (Okay, so that was planned too, but, whatever)

-

Daja had been lonely for the past two days. She only had two _kaqs_ to occupy her time. Okay, so Dedicate Lark wasn't too bad, but Rosethorn was true to her name. A thorn on a rose. She might look pretty on the outside, but on the inside she was as sharp as a needle. So far she had threatened her 24 times in the past 48 hours, only about five of which the woman had been around for. Usually she was in her garden watering the plants, weeding, etc. That was another place from which threats stemmed. "If I catch you in my garden I will hang you by your ankles from the top of the hub." she would say.

Ultimately, she was bored. She flopped down on her bed. She had finished all the chores that could possible be done without disrupting Rosethorn checked Lark to ask if she wanted tea (kaq's tea was vile, weak stuff, but it was better than nothing) and lay out on the roof for a little bit. THen she had come down here. And done nothing.

"Daja, why don't you come down here?" called Lark, her voice genuinely sweet. Without even answering Daja got up and rushed downstairs, hoping that maybe she had some sort of chore to do. Two girls walked in through the door, the sun shining behind them. They were both looking around tentatively.

"Sandry? What are you doing here?" asked Daja, surprised. The girl had lived in the noble dorms, where she had defended her when she had first come in. She hadn't seent the girl since.

"My behavior has been innapropriate for a lady." she giggled. Daja grinned. Finally she knew the days wouldn't be so boring.

Trisana Chandler looked around, bored. She couldn't let herself enjoy the place, not when she knew she wouldn't be staying here for very long. After all, no one wanted to keep her for more than a year or two. "This is my room." she heard Daja say. She followed the girl up the stairs. She quite liked being up here, it was beautiful. The wind was carressing her face lightly, wind that was fresh from the ocean. The best kind of wind.

"Do you want this room? I can move to another one if you want." Tris turned, realizing there was someone else in the room.

"No, it's all right."

-

Daja Kisubo walked up to the edge of the ocean and breathed in the clear air. This air was so familiar, she smelt it whenever she came into port with her family. She missed them so much, her heart ached whenever she even began to think of them. She remembered the way her father used to sing with her late at night, singing old Trader songs and telling her all the secrets of the trades. He would tell her all the daily gossip. How Grandmother had spilt the tea on the cat, or how he himself had told her mother the wrong thing on their anniversary. She missed all of them, she missed every fiber of them. Wished only that she could have spent more time with them, watched them more closely.

Saved them somehow. Her legs gave out on her, she could no longer hold herself up. She held her head in her hands, tears dripping down passed her palms. She wished there was someone here to comfort her. She drew her fingernails tightly on her cheeks. Her eyes were now red from the tears. Her shoulders were drawn tightly into her body. The warmth was all she needed...

But she wanted her family. Just a warm touch from a warm hand that loved her. That was all she wanted.

A spark of sun caught her eye in the distance. She looked up with curiosity, the tear stains still visible on her cheeks. It seemed almost as though there were a thick vine of something green coming towards her. She stared, but then it disappeared. Her curiosity peaked she crept forward onto the sand. The green vine teased her as it came forward, occasionally showing itself, then disappearing in an instant.

It was then there- right there in front of her. It slithered around, and she watched it, wondering what it was that it wanted. Tentatively, she put her hand in the water. The vine, searching for a place to go jerked and slid into her body. She gasped, unwilling to scream. She felt unaware of her surroundings for a moment, but then it-well, it didn't stop exactly, but that uncomfortable feeling was no longer so strong.

-

Tris watched the two other girls chat happily as she sat in the bumpy carriage to the market. She felt somewhat jealous. Of course, Sandry had tried to make friends with her, but she hadn't exactly appreciated the attempts. What the girl didn't seem to understand was that she was a noble, and that she was a merchant. If the other girl would not obey the basic laws of society, Tris would. It just wasn't natural for anyone to talk to just anyone, after all.

"We're here." Rosethron announcing, shoving the three girls out of the carriage. She led them towards an empty stall where she and Lark began to set it up. They got the girls to help, although they were all somewhat hesitant of being in close quarters with the foreboding woman. Of course they saw her during dinner time... but that just wasn't the same.

Eventually the girls were allowed to wander on their own, and Tris immediately headed to a second hand bookshop. Daja saw a peak of gold play at her eye. As an excuse, she told herself that it would be a good thing for Frostpine to see. He would just love to see local metalworking... She knew it was a lousy excuse, but she simply couldn't betray her family and even **think** _lugsha_ thoughts. Sandry, however, wandered around to look at thread. Lark had said that there was a man around who spun magnificently, that she should go have a look at his work and see the different varieties of techniques.

Then she heard the sound of a small whimper.

-

Author's Note: Yeah, I know what you're thinking. That chapter was freakishly short. Well, yeah. You're right. But I gave you two this time so-umm... that's my excuse! So, I deeply apologize for making this chapter so short, but they will become longer once stuff happens.

R/R please! Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

One world, no Coincidences

------

Obviously, two bulls cannot mate. And, at the same time, if they're brothers... it barely even likely that they'd try. However, in this the two figurative 'bulls' weren't even willing to talk. But then again, bulls usually don't.

"You dared to say that this was YOUR ship!" screeched Pauha,her muscles tense and ready for a fight. She ground down on her teeth as hard she could, almost feeling the brittle bones grinding to a fine dust under the massive pressure of her jaw. She grabbed onto the side of the dark, wooden table in the captain's room. HER room. Not his.

The sun gleamed in the large, frontal windows, making it hard for Pauha to see her brother in any light other than a silhouette. He sat comfortably at the desk empty of paperwork with merely a lantern upon it. He rested his elbow on it, raising his eyebrows to mask his slight fear of this raging, huge, woman.

She was bigger than him, of course. Didn't everyone know that? He had always been small, little, skinny. She had never even protected him against anything. When the neighborhood bullies had tipped him upside down and had snatched away all of his precious treasures, she barely even grimaced. She didn't care about him, she'd never cared about him. She hated him, and he knew it. He wanted to hate her too, but he simply couldn't. She was his sister. He loved her. Not in an inapropriete way, of course, but in a family way. And he only wished that she loved him too. Liked him, even. Any positive feeling from her was looked on by him as a good thing, a plus, something good to hope for.

If only she could understand. He'd said it was his ship because he wanted people to fear the name Enahar. Pauha was already feared, more than she could ever know. If only he too could share her legacy. A legacy that was held in gold. There was even a nation far away that revered her as a god. He wished he could have that too. Why did she get everything in the family? Good looks, she was strong, muscular, scheming, intelligent, frightening. Her very presence demanded respect. Everything that anyone could ever wish for.

"I seem to remember doing that, yes." he remarked, that ridiculous eyebrow still high upon his forhead, taunting Pauha, making it hard for her not to punch him in the face.

"What could possibly inspire you to think that this is your ship? It is mine, remember? I only let you on it because you were suffering without work. How dare you call this your ship. This will never be your ship! Do you understand? You only work here, for me! You are MY mage! On MY ship! Remember that and don't you dare think any different." She took one last horrid glare and beamed it into his sordid direction. Despite his calm composure he was shaking on the inside, her words wounding him to the core. SHe was right. Five years ago, he had been just out of a bad reputation job that had backfired, leaving him with no work. No one would take him. FInally when he was living at a point where his pride was no longer a factor in his choices he begged and pleaded with his sister to let him onto her ship. He would work for her. For free, as long as she would give him food and housing. She took one last angry glance at him and left the room, leaving Enahar all alone in his misery.

He couldn't work at anything at all, his mind could only toss and turn over what she had told him. Soon his despair turned to a quiet anger that began to churn slowly and forcefully in the wake of the calm afternoon.

------

Marlow was making a batch of tomato soup when he came in. Enahar was looking extremely irritated. Irritated being the nice way of putting it. It was unusual though, for him to look as furious as he did now. He came in and ordered Marlow to make him a sandwich. Marlow obliged, knowing it could be his head if he didn't obey.Enahar then proceded to inspect the sandwich. He began yelling about something, stirring up a scene, getting completely overworked about some imperfection in the sandwich. Heads began poking into the door. Even among place of slaves, the natural human curiousity could not be quelled. Marlow could see the unstoppable fury in Enahar's eyes and began to feel fear for himself. He never had before, Pauha had been around, but right now there was no Pauha to protect him. She was no mage, she knew not of what was happening under her feet. Marlow's words began to come out wrong and he found himself slipping and sputtering over his words. Angrily, Enahar punched. He began to beat him like a drum. Just punched, like a repeated thud of an axe in the distance. Marlow was weaker than Enahar. Enahar was hurting him, all on his own, no magic to help him. After a while he stopped, inhaling deeply into his lungs. Enahar stood back, sweating profusely. He looked around, seeing that people had seen him in his bout of madness. He commanded someone to pick up the weak old man and carry him to the deck. THere he killed him. A moment after his death, Enahar smiled, a rush of adrenaline pouring through his veins.

------

"Marlow!" called Briar. He was standing in the kitchen trying to ignore a strange smell that kept reaching his senses. It was familiar in a way, and yet very frightening. Chills went up and down his back. There was something wrong. He couldn't quite place what it was. The kitchen felt so empty, what without Marlow inside. Where was he anyways.

"There's no use calling for him," a voice said clearly in the doorpost of the kitchen. Briar turned around.

"Fleetfoot?" he wondered aloud. In the past month or so she had undergone a complete transformation, from the pretty but meek girlfriend of Barley to what he was seeing right now. She wore heavy brown leather boots and a normal sailor's attire. Her hair was swept back from her face cleanly. It wasn't her clothes that surprised him though, it was the expression she wore on her face. It wasn't kind and forgiving as he was used to. That side of her looked to be buried beneath the mask she had made for herself once Barley had died, and had almost disappeared it seemed now that she knew Pauha.

"Yes." she answered shortly, somewhat uncomfortable. There was a silence.

"What do you mean there's no use in calling him?" Briar asked her, fear creeping into his heart.

"He's dead. Enahar killed him two hours ago. Pauha just found out. She's furious." she said this calmly, as though someone Briar had grown to care for hadn't just dropped dead.

"What? No! No, that can't be true!" he could barely hold back the tears that seemed to be trying to force their way out of his eyes. Everyone he knew was dying. It was all around him. Death. Like some kind of unescapable plague. Everyone was so young though. Barley. All the other slaves that had died in the escape. On the ship.

"It is." Fleetfoot's voice became quiet, "I'm sorry." she told him. Briar burried his face into his hands, willing himself not to cry, not to cry. He couldn't cry. Only the weak cried, and he refused to join their ranks. He would be strong. He would not collapse, no matter what this ship brought upon him. But he knew that he could never truly be the same again. He could never be the naive child he was before the failed escape. He had thought he was immortal. He knew that one day death would come but it hadn't seemed a reality. Now he knew. He wouldn't last here much longer. He would die soon. His young body was already waning from the pressure. He couldn't handle this. He was only ten. He didn't feel like ten. He felt old. Like he had been living on this earth forever, since the sun had first risen so many years ago. It wasn't natural. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He didn't want to. He felt soon he would collapse and die. It would be a nice change. But at least he would die in dignity. He would make sure of it.

Seeing Roach again pulled some heartstrings for Fleetfoot. He was like a little brother, so young and naive. But, she noted, he didn't seem to be so much any more. The way his face twisted into a heartbroken pain tore her apart. She stepped forward, feeling a warm emotion she hadn't felt in weeks. SHe saw him and went forward faster until she stood in front of him. He looked up from his hands. His eyes were red and puffy, but dry. She embraced him. She could not stand to see his face so wretchedly sad. Briar didn't deserve the pain she had felt a month and a half ago, and still felt today. No one deserved that pain. She wanted to somehow sap out all his pain and take it into herself. She clutched him tightly, holding him. He didn't pull away. It felt good to have someone care.

-  
Author's Note: Yay! I haven't written this in so long. Did you miss me? R/R! s 


	9. Chapter 9

**One World, No Coincidences**

Author's Note: As said in my profile (which surprisingly I actually updated) I am done writing all the notes for Tris's Book so there shall hopefully be no more delays. Other than school. And me typing up my story. Not this one, but an original one I wrote a year ago that I'm calling Hero for now. It needs so much editing it isn't even funny. Writing styles change sooo much.

The Will of the Empress just came out! Woohoo! I just read it, awesome. It starts out not so good but gradually gets better. There are some major surprises even though they've been hinted at before. And to all you Rosethorn/Crane couple peoples (I was one of them, they would have made such a cute couple) I don't think she's interested.

On to the story!

Blood still trickled down his elbow after being pushed to the ground earlier by one of the pirates. Some had taken a particular disliking to him, while to most slaves they didn't even notice. Briar's eyes almost seemed as though they had glazed over. He didn't want to think of anything right now. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. It was incessant scrubbing. The only thought that lay in his mind now was the thought of how his hands had to move. Up and down, up and down. He covered his lower lip with his upper one and winced, tasting the blood dribble from his cracked mouth.

His mind was plagued nowadays. He rarely talked. He saw no need. There was death all around him. And anyways, who would listen? Did he even have anything of importance to say? No, he didn't. He was a useless slave. All he was good for was scrubbing. That was why he was doing so. "Those who can do more are," he remembered Pauha say. He felt anger bubble up inside of him. He let it back down. What was the use? What could he possibly do? He was useless, worthless. Pathetic. A mongrel. His parents had been the same. "Bad breeding." one of the pirates had joked heartily one day. Maybe a year ago he would have cried. Sure, he would have hidden in a corner to do it, but maybe he would have cried. Not now. Not today. He didn't feel human enough to cry. Pathetic scraps of meat like him weren't human. They didn't have feelings. That's why they were kicked and clobbered and spat on. They wouldn't be if they didn't deserve it. They must have done something in a past life to have become a slave. Why else would they be a slave? It's a punishment from the gods. No doubt they needed punishment.

Briar sank his teeth into his lip bitterly. I hate this, he thought, I hate my life. Why can't they just kill me and get it over with. This way I'm still dying at least, but it's happening much more slowly. He could see the muscles strain in his bony wrist. He could almost feel the whip cracking onto his back. More! More! More! You aren't good enough! The floor isn't clean! You don't deserve to live with work like this! Then the whip would crack, and his arms would shake and blood would ooze from his back. But no one would care. Why should they care. He was just a slave. His life was meaningless. He felt it.

Things had gotten worse for him once Marlow died. Enahar was strict, he didn't want Briar treated to any special care. He sent him with the rest of the slaves, where he had belonged in the first place. Pauha just gave up. She hadn't really cared that much. If it made her little brother happy, fine. She didn't want him yattering on anymore. She had had enough of him. She had other business to attend to. Over the past month or so she had organized a happy little part of pirate friends, all of which she had forced under her blazing red flag. She was the most powerful of them all, after all. She was Queen Pauha. That was how everyone was to treat her nowadays, like a queen. She had gotten the idea while lying under the sun and ordered one of the pirates to get her a drink. She had been dreaming of winning wars and being the richest woman alive. She thought it over for a moment and realized, hey, she was Pauha. The most feared pirate of all. It had been hard for her and yet she still made it, with her brother begging for a helping hand. Her own brother! She deserved respect. With all she could do with her ship, she could only imagine what she could do with hundreds.

It had been difficult to make some of the pirates cooperate. They were a stubborn lot. They would be, being captains of their own ships for so many years, every one of their words taken as law, for they were outside the law that common folk followed. However, Pauha was as stubborn as a mule. She knew what she wanted and she would not let these men and women take away her dream. She spoke to them of great wealth and money. She told them, with us all working together we could take down Winding Circle. Soon they decided that that was what they wanted to do. They would practice on a few villages, far from their target of course, then take down Winding Circle.They were headed there now.

Some troubling news had reached her, however. There was to be an earthquake in Ragat. Everyone knew of it. The news had spread fast once Nikalarn Goldeye told of it in Winding Circle itself. That in itself was not much of a problem, but she knew of Honored Huath, and he didn't sound like much of a responsible man. What could he possibly do? She had thought, and had let the thought rest. But one week later there were great waves on the earth that spread like the Namornese Sythuthan. It was only days afterwards when she had found herself in for a pleasant surprise. The whole of Summersea had been struck by an earthquake.

_**During the Earthquake, Emelan Year 1035**_

"WaitWaitWait!" cried Sandry excitedly, her pretty clothes smudged from the tumbled rocks that lay atop of her. She was cold, dirty, and scared. Less that moments ago the earth had shook and she, Daja, and Tris had been trapped in a cave below ground. Her two friends had searched above ground for ways to protect them. Tris had been unable to find what she could do, while Daja simply couldn't reach far enough. Sandry, on the other hand had been useless. They had opened their minds and found themselves only scared, to wait for the next earthquake. The other two girls had kept trying, leaving Sandry blank and helpless. Soon Daja formed a protective barrier with her suraku and moved the coal upwards so the three of them could move.Tris opened three air vents, but one had water over top so she closed that one.

Sandry reached into the small pouch hanging from her neck where she kept her first bit of weaving, four equal lumps. "Put something of you inside of it. I don't care what, a memory, a feeling. But it has to come from you. Hold hands. Wait, with me put your hands on my knees." the other two girls complied. Daja held two knots, just to keep the weaving more balanced.

Inside hers Daja thought of hot irons in her hands. Something stopped her. Something inside of her. It was that strange power not her own she had picked up not long ago by the cove. The one that made her feel green things. It wanted out. She wanted it out, too. It felt strange to have someone else's magic. She didn't even know whose magic it was. It was just someone's. Not knowing what she was doing really she threaded out the strange magic until all of it lay in the lump. Then she worked back on hers. She wasn't exactly sure if what she had done was smart, putting someone else's magic into their lump, but she had to get rid of it, and now she had. To hers, she put in the feeling of red hot iron in her hands. Her magic, and no one else's.

-  
Author's Note: Again. Yes. Shout out to Bella Narcissa, friend of mine and writer extraordinare, I'm finished the book (Will of the Empress) , and you didn't come on Saturday:p!

Anyways. -cough- You all rock! Thanks for all of your reviews! Please review more. I love them all. I hope you liked this chapter. :)

_-Liarra_


	10. Chapter 10

One World, No Coincidences

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, once again i have been obsessing over Hero. Typing it and whatnot. I read it sometimes and I'm wincing at the lack of logic, but I know once I finish editing all will be good. Editing does that.  
('.')  
A cool, steady wind breezed over Winding Circle. It was evening, with nothing unusual from Astrel Island to the Winding Circle Temple itself. Fisherboats glid down easily on the breeze, whatever use of steering seemed useless, the wind's control seemed so strong. If one were looking for it, one would see a small canoe being oared by two men. It wasn't a sight so unusual. Two men and a lump covered in cloth. The lump looked as though it was a barrel, presumable to store their day's catch. If one didn't know what they were up to, one might think it was perfectly innocent.

Only four people alive knew what was stored in that barrel, and only five knew that it was coming. Coming to Summersea. Or, more precisely, Bit Tower. Then, if they were lucky, Pirate's Point too. When Oadren and Yarsey sat down in the canoe that night, they didn't know they would die less than two hours later. How could they? Maybe if they had they would have found some way to sneak off. But no, thieves as they were, they still belonged to Pauha, Queen of the Seas. What she would do to them when she found them was worse than any death they could imagine in Summersea.

They, like all the fishermen, headed for the gate, but they, unlike the other fishermen, gently brought their canoe northeast, to crescent island. There they waited until most of the guards were gone. Here two men lugging a large barrel of who knows what was suspicious, if not even at the docks. Then they did just that, Oadren stepping out of the boat to get the initial heave and Yarsay helping him from inside the boat. They carried it for a while until they reached Bit Tower.

"This thing's heavy," complained Yarsay, much to Oadren's disgust.

"Quiet!" the older man snapped in a harsh whisper.

"Why'd they pick me and you! This thing needs at least two more-" Yarsay was panting, and Oadren was ready to smack him.

"The less that knows, the better, y' lazy cod's head! Now stow it!" Yarsay quietened for a moment, but then decided to speak once more, as though Oadren really cared for what he had to say. "Now what?" The two men had just put down their burden and Oadren wiped his hands on his pants. They were at the base of Bit Tower. "Do we knock?"

"I swear by Shurri Fire-Sword-" The heavy door at Bit Tower's base creaked open. Not by it's will, it sounded from the loud noise it made. There was a woman hanging onto the doorknob for dear life. Her skin was sallow and her breath smelt like alchahol. She was drunk.

"Git that thing in here, b'fore some un comes! Watch changes in an hour, an' sometimes they're early!" Yarsay wondered briefly what the Watch would do if they found her like this.

Swiftly Yarsay and Oadren heaved their burden and carried it through the doorway. Inside they told the woman what they needed, a cord, and Yarsay walked outside of the tower holding onto the end that wasn't connected to their barrel. They didn't ask her name. "Here's the cord." she said, the spirits seemed to be wearing off. "But if ye lay it on the ground, will it burn? We-" Oadren didn't even look to Yarsay for support. They knew what they would do before they even set out into the canoe. He killed her, Yarsay putting down his cord to lend a hand.

"If we leave her in the open they'll find her!" Yarsay's voice was quiet, but urgent, "They'll know something's-"

"Stow it." Oadren snapped back at his partner, his voice the same level, "Once we're clear the mage'll light to cord and-"

Then their barrel tore the tower apart, them along with it.

"They died." said Enahar briskly. His eyes watched as his sister paced impatiently in front of his desk. 

"They died? What do you mean they died?" His sister emphasized died so that she was almost yelling. Her hand slammed into his desk, her face contorted into rage. "How could they have died?" Her brother merely pointed out onto the sea, Bit Tower was still wavering, and pieces of it were still falling from the sky.

"It looks like they didn't wait for me to light the cord." he replied, his calm infuriating her to no end. Did he not see that two of her crew had just been blown up by their own bomb? "Why should you care. They're just two in more than a thousand." she glared, unwilling to voice her thoughts.

"They're my men." she told him possessively, that was what she thought of everyone in her crew. They were hers.

"So you feel as though they have been stolen from you?" he cocked his eyebrow. Pauha clenched her jaw. Why did he always infuriate her like this? She supposed it might have something to do with the fact that he was her brother, but were all siblings so annoying? He wasn't anything a good second in command would be. Sometimes she wondered why she even kept him on this ship, but she knew it was the same reason for which she wanted him off.

"You aren't my soul healer so shut up." said Pauha harshly. SHe didn't take it too kindly when her men were killed, if only by their own stupidity.

"You have a soul healer?" asked Enahar with a grin. The man leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows onto his desk with a child like grin smearing all over his bearded face.

"No. I don't. And I would shut up if I didn't want that pretty little earring ripped out of it's pretty little ear." she snarled. The aimed at him was of such ferocity Enahar could only be impressed. No reason to be afraid. She was his sister, and therefore obligated to let him leech from her, as much as it did make her want to strangle him. She paced the room angrily, her heavy brown boots coming down again the hardwood floors of the ship.

"Call in your little mage-boy." she demanded, her eyes flickering. She was in one of those moods.

"Aymery?" asked Enahar, fascinated. He'd rarely been able to see her when she came up with her brilliant plots to burn down villages and merchant boats. He was in luck today, it seemed. He might be a part of the process.

"Yes. We can't go into Winding Circle ourselves, so wouldn't it be perfect if he did it for us? I had thought only to use him for distraction, but he could be for more use than that. After all, he's a mage, right? Mages trust other mages. Especially young ones, eager to learn from his elders all that they can teach." her eyes sparkled wildly, and everything about her from her golden belt buckle to the tiniest weave of cotton seemed to glimmer with life. Enahar nodded, certain that anything she came up with right now would be pure genius. "Give him some poppy oil and cinnamon oil. We'll tell him what he needs to look for, and that he must tell us everything else besides."

"And the scouting ship? Will that be the same?" Enahar asked.

"Yes, yes. The scouting ship will be the same. Make sure you get one of your mages to do the spell on it though, I don't want anyone to see it coming." She still paced, her self lit up by a grin.

"Of course." She continued in her route about the room.

"Well?" she stopped. Enahar looked up, somewhat startled. "Get a move on!"

Briar, Ovik, Juni, and Merretta loaded the seemingly endless supply of knives, swords and metal arrowheads into the scouting ship due to sail that morning. Ovik and Juni, two of the slaves with him, seemed all right, but Marretta talked too much. He wondered how she could possibly be a slave. What kind of slave was so annoying? Most masters killed you for that kind of behavior. Or, Enahar would at the very least.

"Why did your thief lord person decided to call you 'Roach' anyways, that's such a horrid name. Like, you're just a roach in his basement or something. You know, to hide away." Her face was animated and lively, leaving Briar wondering how long ago she had been taken as a slave. No more than a week, he thought.

"D'you know what scum is?" scowled Briar as he dumped another crate into the boat's belly.

"Yeah. That has nothing to do with my question though. Did you hear me? I asked you why he called you that." she was sickeningly cheerful. Didn't she know that she would live, tops, for another year? He couldn't contlemplate how she had gotten into slavery. She was too happy to have had a scary past.

"I am scum." he told her, marching from the door, determined to get another crate before she caught up with him. She caught up with him as he walked on the bridge between the two ships.

"Now, you don't believe that, do you? What they've been telling you? Everyone is worth the same. Some people just don't understand that. The gods love us all." Briar felt like slapping the idealistic girl and telling her off. Telling her that the world isn't as dandy as it seemed. People died for no reason other than their status. People were slapped around because the bullies had nothing better to do. Women were caught walking in the middle of the street with fake jewelry and were killed. Yes, Briar knew the injustices of the world, and he felt this girl should know them too. But he didn't get a chance to say anything, two pirates walked up to him as he bent down to get a crate and gave him a shove. The moment was lost. Briar heaved himself back up and went back to picking up the crates and putting them in the ship.

Three little girls lay their head down to rest in a small cottage meant for children like them. Each fell asleep to the sound of their own breathing, and the steady patter of Lark's loom as she wove bandages. Then soon, the older woman too lay her head down to rest and all was quiet in Discipline cottage, despite the rough night the children had had.

In the end, that night, not everyone went to sleep. Some stayed up through it all making plots for riches beyond any imagination, some laboured until they could labour no more. Many of those said labourers worked until a mere few hours before dawn. Some rowed back to a little place called Winding Circle with orders in their head. And many, very many, had no idea what to think of the stange occurences on Bit Island.

Author's Note: Hey look, I updated, and you didn't have to wait seven months. I think I might be getting good at this 'updating regularely' thing. Anyhow, read and review! 


	11. Chapter 11

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: This is just two days after I updated the last one. Wow. I could give you spoilers, but I'm afraid I don't want to ruin the story. And also I'm not very good at explaining things quickly. If this makes any sense, about the Briar/Roach thing, Roach is what he knows himself as, Roach is what everyone else knows him as, but Briar is who he is. I hope that made sense.

Also, sorry about the lack of separation lines last chapter. For some reason it just takes them away when I uploaded the story and I forgot to edit it on the editing program.

Additionally, sorry if I have not been putting much of the girls in. I figure, you already know what happens to them, I see no point in telling you what you already know. They'll be in much more soon, though.

* * *

The next evening was dark and cloudy. Enahar stared into the shadowed sky, his lip curling in amusement at the panic of the day before at the shattering of all the looking crystals in all of Summersea. He closed his eyes briefly to make sure his barrier still stood. It did. Of course it did. Was he not one of the most powerful, most intelligent mages on the Pebbled Sea? Did he not have more than fifty mages bound to him? Did his sister not lead hundreds of men? He sighed contentedly, and watched the scene out on the waterfront.

There was a ship, not his ship he saw, but Pauha had sent out her own ship. She obviously had not liked those sailors being out at this time of night. It could mean nothing good. After all, why would a good, respectable ship be out this late but to cause trouble for poor, unsuspecting pirates? Enahar watched intently, nibbling on his cinnamon stick stashed in a box on his desk. He had grown addicted to these things ever since his sister had introduced him to them over the winter. He got up from his chair that faced his large window that was as long as most of his office. The bell clanged softly to his ears, but when the cord reached that of a slave's bell, it wouldn't be so hard to ignore. It wasn't long before the slave arrived. As soon as he knocked Enahar opened the door. The slave was sweaty and was panting hard, he had obviously been desperate to come here before Enahar grew irritated. Good, the mage thought, a smile resting on his lips, he liked to keep them scared.

"Tell one of my mages to send out a boom-stone to that suspicious ship." the slave bowed, then scurried off to fulfill his master's request. Enahar closed his door and settled back onto his chair and watched intently. Soon a box floated on the warm summer sea to a certain ship floating at a certain time it shouldn't be. He was still watching when it jerked away from its magical path. He spotted another one heading towards Harbormaster's Tower. His sister must have found out what he was doing and had added her own schemes to the plot. Both of the boxes were heading the same way now, nonetheless. He wondered what could have possibly snatched it off its path. They had to have a mage on that ship. But what would a mage be doing? Aymery had said that Winding Circle had no idea there were pirates about. The man leaned forward in his chair, his eyes glinting in anger.

A heavy force pushed out from Harbormaster's Tower, rocking his boat a bit. He shielded his eyes from the sudden burst of light. He could feel his barriers begin to fade. He stood up, narrowing his eyes as he looked intently to the distance. There, the ship was shining brightly, as was the Harbour chain. Enahar clenched his jaw. He could see ships. Not only his ships either, the duke's navy. He frowned, but knew he could do nothing now but try and put the illusion back up. That was useless. Now they knew they were there, there was no point in pretending they weren't. He closed the drapes and opened the door to his bedroom. His being awake would solve nothing.

* * *

That afternoon a completely bored Briar watched in fascination at the wall of thorns beginning to grow at a rapid rate on Summersea coast. In just fifteen minutes he had seen them grow from just a seedling. How could it grow so fast? The only explanation he could think of was magic, but even he knew that magic had nothing to do with growing things. "Boy!" snapped a gruff voice. "Pauha wants you." Briar snapped around so fast that if he had had long hair it would have struck his face like a whip. A man wearing an elaborate pirate's garb, one eye looked like it might have been poked out by the walking stick in his hand, stood behind. He couldn't help but goggle, he had never actually seen a pirate that looked like how they were fabled. He rushed out of the man's sight as quickly as he could, he wasn't particularely keen on the idea of being whipped.

When he got to Pauha's office he realized he must not have been the only one summoned, as there were about twenty other people standing in front of her door. The door creaked open slowly and a tense Pauha scanned the space in front of her. These were the people she had asked for. "Tonight someone inside Winding Circle is going to open the gate. Everyone will be asleep, don't worry about that. I want you to kill them, then begin the raid." Although she had just told them what they were doing, Briar wasn't completely sure what they were doing. The woman beckoned for her pirates to come in so she could give them more detailed plans. Briar wasn't one of her pirates though, so he and the other slaves had to wait outside the door. A few were trying to listen in, but Briar was almost certain that Enahar had spelled the room so it was impossible to do that.

"Why do you think she wants us?" asked a wide eyed slave.

"Killing machines for her army. Who cares about us, right? It doesn't matter if we die, and they need extra people." said another bitterly. Briar looked towards them. He felt like the other boy was speaking straight from his mind.

"Yes, but why us in particular?" said the wide-eyed one.

"No reason! You idiot, she just chose us randomly." It looked like the first boy was about to cry. The second one just rolled his eyes and turned away.

It seemed like forever and a day had passed when the pirates stepped out from Pauha's cabin. "Slaves, put our knives and daggers onto the boats!" barked one of the pirates who seemed to be growing himself a furry beard. They all bent their knees in a small bow and ran to the knives and daggers. Fear crossed Briar's heart. He didn't die when he was caught trying to escape the docks, he didn't die when he had been learning from Enahar, he didn't die when Marlow did. But now? It occured to him that he might actually die. He would be raiding Winding Circle! What if people woke up and they attacked them all? Would they really try and seperate the slaves from the pirates? He doubted it. And if they were successful? Maybe Pauha would have a reward for them.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry that the chapter was so short. But, think of it this way, at least it exists. R/R. 


	12. Chapter 12

Once World, No Coincidences 

AUthor's Note: To everbody who reviewed (You know who you are...) you now officially rock. :D Also, a lot of people have been wondering why I chose to give Daja Briar's power. Things don't happen according to who can handle it best. Things just happen, and the consequences just come out of it. Maybe Sandry would have been able to handle Briar's power best, but how would she get hold of it? And what would she do with it? Daja has more of a hardy able-to-handle-anything sort of personality. Besides, she loves the sea, and Briar is on the sea.

* * *

When Trisana Chandler awoke that evening to a heavy fog because of a restless sleep, she didn't expect to see her cousin, of all people, tiptoeing around outside of Discipline. She also hadn't expected to see him unlock the Winding Circle gates and let in a horde of pirates. It was then that she got suspicious, not to mention fairly scared. 

_WAKE UP!_ She snapped through her magical connection to Sandry and Daja. Both girls woke up, if unwillingly, to her call. A rush of questions along the lines of 'why did you wake me up?' entered her brain. She allowed them to see through her eyes as the first pirate took out his sword. Fear pulsed through Tris's skin, wind blowing angrily around her. He raised it to the sleeping man's head, and it killed him.

How dare he? How dare that pirate, that leech! Come marching into her home and hurt anyone in the temple. No, not hurt them, how could they kill them. And as Aymery stood there alive with absolute calm she knew that he was helping them. Was she just a joke to him? Had he been nice to her all along so he could stay in her home? Didn't he know that this was the one place she had been able to call home since she had been a baby? Anger surged through her veins. How dare he!

Tris barely realized what she was doing, large hard hail dropped heavily onto the heads of the sleeping people below her, dropped onto the pirates heads. She climbed out of the window, forgetting about the other two girls, and began slowly walking up to her cousin. Sandry and Daja each woke up Lark and Rosethorn, and for once Daja didn't care if Rosethorn bit her head off. Tris's hands formed into fists. Sandry's hand reached her shoulder. Tris turned, there stood Lark, Rosethorn (who came prepared with Little Bear), Daja and Sandry. Sandry's face was stricken with horror, and Daja's anger. She couldn't see Lark or Rosethorn's because they had gone to wake Dedicate Moonstream and Niko. The man who seemed to be the pirate's leader turned on the three girls, somehow sensing that they were the cause of their change in situation. Sandry's grip on Tris's shoulder tightened. It was pure chaos around them, the battle mages were just waking up, had formed into and group and had yelled for everyone to get away from the pirates, and to wake up. Many people were screaming as they ran for their very lives.

The pirate leader snapped out his dagger from his belt advancing quickly at the girls. Daja broke out into a quick run, pulling on the other two girls to shake them out of their shock. Lightning buzzed in Tris's hair as she ran, struggling to keep up with the other two, faster, girls. "The hub!" she panted loudly. She began to run there. There were already some dedicates forming strong protective barriers and hurrying people inside to keep them safe. They would save all the lives they could tonight.

* * *

Briar grabbed a tough woven bag for his findings and went at a run to a blue robed dedicate, holding a weapon in his hand, and determined to do some damage. He wanted to be free of this whole night. What would happen if he were to just stand back? He wondered briefly. He would be killed, he was sure. But what made him so sure he wouldn't be killed right now? He smiled, sure he must look deranged to the fleeing dedicate. Odd, really, that the dedicate would be running from him, a child. Sad that 6 months could turn him into someone willing to actually kill someone else for his freedom. The thought stopped him in his tracks. Was he? 

There was dead lying all around him. Could he do that? Could he gut someone like some kind of worthless fish? That was how he had been treated for the past 6 months. But he could do that to someone else? He wasn't sure. He heard the belly laugh of Orin, the man leading this night. "We've got 'em runnin'. All we need now is ter get those magic books!" his voice boomed over the pirates. "Start lookin'!" The pirates scrambled, searching for that one last survivor not hidden in the hub, that book of magical secrets they'd sell their life for, and anything worth more than a silver coin.

Briar sprinted into the gentle looking cottage near the wall. He needed a break. He opened the door to hear a loud squaking of some sort of bird. It seemed like it would be a friendly place in the daytime. He walked into the kitchen and began searching through the cupboards, finding only some pots, pans, and some bits of food (which he ate, not remembering that it was Winding Circle food that made the the mages fall asleep in the first place) He didn't bother to put everything back where it had been before. He went into the dining room, but there was nothing there except for a few crumbs that had fallen off the table. He brought down the books from the book cases, holding them each by the spine and shaking them to make sure nothing came out. He wondered curiously how he could possibly know which ones held anything important in them. There was a chalkboard on the wall with writing on it that he couldn't read.

He led himself into the garden. There was something odd about this garden as he crept through it. Somehow it seemed more alive than any other garden he had been in before. He snuck into the shed off the side of the garden. It looked like someone lived in there. There was a hard wooden bed, and a few plants on the floor, these looking just as happy as the ones outside. There were plenty of bottles labelled with scribbles. They looked like they kept some sort of concoction kept within the glass. He smiled. He had found the jackpot. He loaded the glass bottles into his bag. Heaving the bag onto his should he proceeded into the rest of the cottage. He went into the room that looked like it was used for weaving. He searched it halfheartedly. What could he find to do with sewing anyways? Sewing wasn't magic, unlike the concoctions he had found in the shed. Those could be anything. He only found some random pieces of cloth, but he didn't find it too interesting. The next room was empty except for a bed and an empty set of drawers. The room following that one also held a bed, but its drawers were full of gorgeous dresses, and surprisingly some breeches and tunics. There was a softly lit oil lamp, that glowed brightly in the darkness held up by the dresser top. A piece of thread going in a circle with no obvious beginning or end was what caught his eye. It was familiar, it looked like some of the bijili knots on the pirate ship. He knew it was probably dangerous, but he couldn't help himself. Gently he reached out and touched the thread.

It was like fire burning through his veins, plants reaching for the sun, begging for some water and finally getting it. He remembered this feeling. This was his magic. Even if he hadn't wanted it, he still had it, and then he had given it away to stop someone else from getting it. But now it was his again.

_Who are you? _He heard suddenly in his head, and his breath was stolen from his lungs. Was he going mad? Why had his magic been in that funny little string anyways? The image of a short, blonde, button nosed girl came to mind. He didn't say anything. He could feel the glare of two other presences. Was he possessed by demons? Had his touching the thread somehow signed some sort of evil pact? He remained quiet, but then the voice demanded his identity again.

_Roach..._ He told it, fear piercing his heart.

_Who are you and why are you in our circle?_ This time it was another presence that told him this, this one looking like a angry redhead.

_Roach. I said that already! Why would I know what I was doing in your 'circle'?_ He asked furiously. _All I didwas touch the thread._

_How are you able to touch the thread?_ this time the question was asked by what seemed like a big strong Trader girl. Her voice was suspicious and angry.

_I don't know!_ He told them in his magical voice. _Who are _you

_None of your business,_ snapped the redhead. Something in his connection to the Trader pulsed with a mixture of horror and excitement.

_I think I know who you are,_ she said, _you're the one that gave me his magic!_


	13. Chapter 13

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: Woot! 7 reviews in one chapter. Wow. :D Okay, so that isn't a lot, but it makes me happy. Anyways, I didn't think I'd be going on so long with this one. I've become much better at actually finishing stories these days.Also, in case you are unaware, if you reviewed, you STILL rock my socks (Including the new people, hi!) Valid Input:...

* * *

"What are you talking about?" whispered Sandry to her friend Daja as they sat quietly admist the mob of scared and angry Dedicates, Lark and Rosethorn included. 

"One time when I was at the sea I put my hand in the water and I felt someone else's power go into me. When you weaved our magics, you weaved that magic too. I think that was this guy's magic." Daja replied eagerly.

"Daja..." Tris stared at the girl next to her, her face pale in horror, "that boy must be a pirate!" Daja chortled.

"A pirate?"

"Yes a pirate, he came by sea, remember?" Tris snapped.

"He could be a merchant... Or a Trader..." Tris only raised her eyebrows at her friend.

_Ahem.._ the boy said in their head. _I'm right here._

"How does he know what we're saying?" Sandry asked.

"He's seeing through our eyes." Daja replied, refocusing her attention to the matter at hand. The boy and the fact he was part of their circle, not to mention he was probably a pirate. Tris stared into the distance before her powerful voice boomed in their head like a clap of thunder.

_How DARE you come into my home, the only I have ever known, kill them, then trap us in the Hub while you steal every piece of knowledge that over the years has been collected? How DARE you! _Each word she spoke became louder and more angry until Briar couldn't take it anymore and found himself covering his ears.

_How do I know you aren't spirits, just here to mess with my noggin!_ his mental voice said in a desperate, afraid sort of voice. Since he had become a slave he had lost all his dignity.

_Because you've seen us,_ said the Trader reasonably.

_Real people are getting hurt, Roach._ In his mind a petite blonde looked at him sympathetically.

_Even if I wanted to help you I couldn't,_ he snapped, _I'm only a slave._ And just like that he severed the connection. He was suddenly all to aware of the garden around him and fear pulsed through his heart. What if they thought he was one of the magicians, or whatever they called themselves? What if they found out he could here voices in his head that looked and spoke like real people?

But, he had to admit, as much as he hated to, that the voices were right. Real people were dying and it was all because of him. No, he was wrong, it wasn't entirely his fault, but he was helping. He was here letting people die. Suddenly an image of Barley, handless, lying amongst so many others. Marlow, beaten then stabbed. By Enahar. How could he do this for a killer? He had known so many to have died, so many gone. Why was he letting this happen to some other family? Just because they had what he never had? A family? Loved ones? Riches knowledge? But could he possibly do to the living what had been done to him time and time again? Could he take away their loved ones? A bit of their soul and crush them, leaving them only able to wonder why this had been done to them in particular? Why not someone else? Did he want a deathwish cast upon him by the ones who survived. A wave of anger swept through him as he felt tears in his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his wrist before they even fell. He had to be strong.

What if though? What if they were right? What if he did have magic? He touched his hands to the dirt and felt plants respond. Was that magic? He laughed at his own idiocy. He was just making this up. He wasn't right in the head. He deserved this living hell. He looked to the stars, about to pray to the gods, when he realized it wouldn't help. This was something he had to sort out on his own. Live this life as a force to be reconed with, maybe freed from slavery and someday become a pirate but scum, a terrible human who killed for joy and robbed people of their livelihood (not that it's bad to do that to someone who had too much...) or to die for his cause. He might not have magic, but at least in this path he might save a life. Save his. Fear racked his soul as he realized the only path he could choose was death. He would die. He would stand up to Enahar and he would die, but maybe those girls could finish him off. He was tense, shivers running up and down his spine. He had no training, no knowledge. All he knew was the meditation the man he was set to kill taught him.

He crossed his legs and put his hands on his knees, breathing in breathing out. Not sure of what might happen, not sure of what he could do. He opened his mind, because he knew nothing. It was the most eerie experience, he felt his magical self rise from his body. Where do I need to go? He thought. I need to find Enahar. He sped over Winding Circle and over to the magical barrier he could see now shimmering around the ships. It suddenly felt like the whole world had opened up to him, he could feel things he never could before. There were roots of plants underwater. The water was almost suffocating, but he was a plant and soaked up the power it gave him, going underneath the ship but hitting the barrier below. OUT OUT! His magical self told him and he went up. He didn't know why, it wasn't as though he would live anyways. It's because before I die I want to do something important, he realized.

He saw figures moving on deck. One of them had to be Enahar, this was his ship. Plants were strong, they could break rocks. He spun magical vines all over the protection, willing them to suck out all the nutrients, but he needed more power! He felt strength seep into him.

_We can help._ Those voices again, they were helping him! He shook his head, they were voices who listened. He wouldn't take anyone else down with him.

_I don't need help, he told them._ They didn't listen. A waterspout suddenly grew in the air to huge proportions.

_Find the magetraps!_ It commanded to the other spirits. Briar chose to acknowledge them begrudgingly, but kept on with his magic, the barrier slowly withering against the four's tirade. Then it cracked. Lightning struck, bolts flew from their ships. Briar suddenly realized he was dealing with powerful mages here.

_Don't go anywhere near Enahar, _he told them bravely, _he'll kill you._ He landed his magical self on the rocking ship next to Enahar, whose eyes were bulging out of his head in fear and anger. This wasn't his magic. He couldn't control the waves, and he was terrified to see bolts and knives flying into the air. Powerful mages were against him. Then he saw the boy he had tried to teach mere months ago. A boy near the age of eleven, but already a man in spirit. He had known that without holding onto him he would come back to hurt him someday with his power. However, Enahar was a mage too, and Roach had never had any training but meditation.

_Don't think I won't kill you, Enahar!_ the boy's voice was spun with echoes of lightning, fires and had an overpowering stench of plants. Enahar snickered at the boy who had nothing, and who was nothing.

_I know you'd like to boy. But I have many years ahead of you, and am many leagues beyond you in power. Wouldn't you like to stay here though? What has caused your change of mind? It's so dangerous for a young boy like you to be here, risking your life... You have so much left to live for._

_No, I never did. Even if there was something it all left when I met you. I have worked under you, I have cooked and cleaned while I and so many others have let you murder for no reason other than power. I can only redeem myself if I stop you._ His voice lowered to a whisper, and the only thing that can stop you is death. Enahar was unimpressed by the boy's ambitions. Others had tried to kill him before, it came with the profession.

_If you really want to kill me so badly boy. Do it. Try your luck with Loki. She favours me, I hope you know. I'm still alive today._ Briar reached out through his soul, through the earth around him. It was the only thing that could help him now. Plants, green things touched him, called out to him. Briar! they said. Who is that? He wondered, the wind whispered this name. He asked them quietly in his mind in calm, but angry solitude. They gave him power, and the power of nature is not easy to behold, even for a moment. But he had asked and she was gracious, for now she would lessen the burden. Green power straight from the mother of nature blazed through him. He held out his hand and vines lept out, spiky and angry. Hate filled them, knowing their purpose was the death of this man. They found a barrier but pushed it aside. They lept around his neck, their thorns digging into his skin, blood flowing out. It covered his body and the man could not move. He tried to make spells but his power was leaving. He was dying and so was it. Briar suddenly realized what he was doing and lessened the grip on the man. Could he really make him die?

Enahar took the chance at the mercy of the boy and lashed out his powerful magic, real blood dripping from the boy in his garden. Enahar knew it would be difficult to kill the boy without his body present, and above all else he wanted him dead right now. He used a powerful bit of magic he had learned long ago, he took a hold on the boy's soul, strangling him, and lashed his body onto the ship. Suddenly he was real, and Enahar slipped out a knife from his belt. "I can kill you the easy way now, boy." he whispered. Briar didn't respond. This was what he had chosen, wasn't it? To die...

The girls saw what had happened and chose to forget the boy's noble words earlier. He wouldn't survive. Tris would not let Enahar kill anyone else, and sent her most angry thunderbolt down onto the ship, hitting Enahar in the back at the moment when he was concentrating on nothing else but the knife he held plunging into the boy's side. He was dead, and the boy had a knife in his stomach. Blood pooled from his body, but Tris knew that the only thing now she could do was sink the ship. She would save him somehow. She threw another lightning bolt onto the boat, but this time not near the boy, and the boat exploded. The girls prayed he would live but first they had to finish the rest of the ships. Lightning flashed and water wrecked the boats, and bolts and screws flew to the air and dropped to the bottom of the sea. There were no more ships left, and what pirates remained were totally defenseless. They checked the area, made sure there was nothing else they could do and awoke in the Hub. Sandry got up and ran to Niko.

"Niko! There's a boy, we have to save him!" her words made little sense to Niko, but he was on his way out anyways. He let her come with him, and the other two girls followed, hurrying to the wall and running down the steps to the beach. Niko saw the three tired girls and asked,

"Did you do this?" the girls, the redhead with tears glistening in her eyes as she saw the damage she had reeked, nodded.

"And so did he." said Sandry pointing at a small floating figure in the distance with a knife to the gut, a circle of his blood mingling with that of many others, pirates and slaves. She turned to Niko, "You have to save him." she was so tired, and so emotional right now. Niko relented, they needed this boy to live it seemed. He breathed in and out in meditation and drew the boy to him as he floated on the waves.

"Carry him to the water temple, he'll be their very first patient today." he told the girls gently as they lifted up the scrawny body of the dying boy. Tiredness seeped through them, but they had to do one last thing before they could go to sleep. They walked through Winding Circle, where pirates were being rounded up. People ran around, there was so much to do. They finally got the Water Temple and lay the boy down on one of the cots. A Healer, helping with people wounded in the earthquake looked the boy up and down, concerned and thoroughly exhausted.

"Who is this?" she asked curtly.

"He helped us defeat Enahar." replied Tris seeming defeated.

"You've got to help him, now!" cried Sandry.

"Please." said the trader shortly. The healer stared at the children wide-eyed. They had defeated Enahar? All those broken ships were because of them? And, apparently this boy. She had never seen him before, but these were Lark and Rosethorn's girls, so she decided to trust him.

"Okay, I'll do it." she shooed the girls away and began her magic, only hoping the boy still had the will to live.

* * *

Author's Note: Woah. Loved that chapter. I just wrote pretty much all of that in an hour. Kind of intense, huh? I hope you liked it, so R/R if you did! Or, you know, you didn't. PS: Listen to Rent, Wicked, and Avenue Q. Those are totally awesome musicals with amazing soundtracks. 


	14. Chapter 14

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: Listen to the Rent Soundtrack, it's absolutely AWESOME. -- listen to it. It's on my favorites. .

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_The last thing Briar remembered was being stabbed by Enahar and blacking out. It had been like his life force had been sucked out of him ever so slowly, his brain buzzed and his vision began to blur. He was too weak to move, he knew he was dying. But, that was what he had asked for. Dread filled his mind as he felt the time come. He would go quietly, he would not worry anyone about his life or presence. He wasn't worth anything, he hadn't even killed Enahar. He had been too afraid. Then it had all grown quiet and his vision was shut out. He was still alive though, he knew somewhere in the deepest crevice of his mind. His soul was still clinging to his body. It wished for another day, another hour, another year, another chance. But he was dying and there was nothing he could stop it. After all, he told himself, he had nothing to live for. He felt himself fizz and drain when something planted a seed. It seemed to force a bright light to ignit from his skull._

_There is more for you to stay for..._

_Briar heard that same voice he had heard before, the sound of green things from the ground pleading for him to hold on. "It will all be over if I die!" he said. Not alloud, but he said it all the same. The green things heard and snaked their way around him._ People care... they whispered in their fluttery way._ It was a sound like wind blowing through the calm summer grass. "No one really cares! Why won't you let me go?" he yelled, and sure enough his soul was holding onto the plane that was his mind like no tomorrow. It would not let go, it would not leave, this was its spot and would be so for many more years. "I want to die! Don't you understand?" he thrust his mind-arms into the air as a plea for help. The wind just just rattled through the grass again, not paying attention to the pleas of their person._

No you don't... Not really Briar...

_"Why do you keep calling me that? Answer my questions!" he yelled, frustrated._

That is who you are... You are Briar... It is your truename...

_"What do you mean?" if nothing else, he wanted to know what they were talking about. His truename? He had never heard of such a thing before. He looked into the vast endless landscape of lime green grass moving in the wind. Was this his mind? It was so calm... He had never thought his mind would be like this. He hadn't thought it would be a place._

_**Hush little baby don't you cry, mama's gonna sing you a lullaby... the landscape around him shifted, showing a young woman wearing too much makeup. He was looking upwards into her soft brown eyes. Was this a memory? His heart began to beat fast as a thought occured to him. This was his mother. He had wanted to see her for so long, for her to hold him in her arms to say that everything would be fine. But he had grown up in a gang were mommies weren't necessary. Weren't manly. Not that he had been anything close to a man back then, he had been a child.**_

_**The woman bit her lip and looked away from him, fat tears forming in her dark eyes framed by long black eyelashes. Out of nowhere it seemed her hand came up and covered her eyes and the woman began to sob. Briar couldn't understand why his mother was sobbing. He wanted more than anything to go up to her and comfort her, to tell her it was all okay, that he would fix whatever it was that had torn her apart so. The dirty white cotton sheet that seperated two areas of their small, filthy apartment was shoved open.**_

_**"What the hell have you been doing with our child, woman?" the man was pointing at something out of, what Briar assumed was a baby version of himself's, vision.**_

_**"Babies barf, Orik!" the woman shouted. Briar watched in fascination, fear, and pity and the man strode over to the young woman and saw he was quickly picked up and held to his mother's chest. The man grabbed his mother by the cuffs of her plain old gown.**_

_**"Don't you dare speak that way to me again, ever." his voice was loud and angry. Looking up baby Briar saw his mother's lip quiver in fear. Sniffles began to be heard and small whines. He was scared. The man shoved the woman away from her, as though her were reviled by her in every way. The babies sniffles turned to a baby's cries. This man was his father. He didn't want to accept it, but this man who shoved the woman whose love for him he could feel even in a memory was his father. Even as he looked he knew it was true. Their faces were similiar. Briar had the man's nose, but his mother's coloring. The man turned back to glare at his wife and child with hatred, and Briar saw his eyes were the same as his own. Green mingled with gray.**_

_**"You know what Orik? I won't!" the woman yelled, holding her baby to her chest. "I have put up with your treatment for five years! I'm leaving!" the man started towards her and tried to take him away from his mother. Briar's heart clenched in his chest, no, he wasn't raised by this man. What would happen to his mother? "No! Don't touch Briar! Don't touch my baby!"**_

_**"His name isn't Briar!" the man--his father-- barked.**_

_**"No name you gave him will ever truly be his! He is not your son! You are a monster!" she screeched, with a final thrust pulling Briar from his father's arms and running out of the apartment as fast as she could, the man she had once loved chasing after her, and she had no idea what he would do to her when he caught up...**_

_Briar wiped away his tears as the scene faded and once again became his mind, the landscape of calm green grass, only now there was some tension in the air and rain began to fall. Is it reacting to my feelings? he wondered. There was a patch of light nearby. Briar decided so, after all, it was his mind. Where else could he be?_

_He thought of his mother. She had been so brave to leave his father. He couldn't believe he looked so much like that man who dealt with his mother so roughly. No doubt he was harsher when she didn't hold a baby in her arms. Why was he remembering this? Why now?_

Your mother loved you..._ the plants rustled._

_But, she's dead now. Was he telling the plants or himself? She died when she refused to give up her cheap jewelry when she stood on a street corner. His mother had resigned to prostitution. She had done it for him, so he would have food on his table, and she died because of it._

_Thunder crashed and the rain poured hard onto his head, but he didn't get wet. This whole place wasn't real. "Why did you show that to me? What was the point?" he asked. The grass no longer moved softly in the wind, the wind was strong and scared._

Because you're Briar... That's who you are...

You owe it to your mother to live. _This voice was simple and strong nonetheless, it knew it was true._

You have lived through so many trials... Why should this one be any different?

_"Because I deserve to die." Briar told himself, these voices, whatever they were, firmly. "I am nothing, I am no one. I learnt that these few months. Before I thought I was someone, but I can't even make a difference. I'm powerless to make a change."_

You're wrong! _the plant-like voices battered him with their small, angry words. If you wake up you will be someone important. Briar laughed, the rain lessened and turned to a misty cold._

_"Well I don't want to go back, not now, not ever. There's nothing for me." he told them with determination._

But you can live, the firm sensible voice spoke in his mind. You can still live if you just hold on. When you have life, you have hope. As soon as you let go of that cord that ties you to the living you will never be able to improve who you are, what you are, your life. You will never experience love, never have children. You will never again see the sun rise. It is worth it to keep living. Your excuses are pathetic. If you hold on in there you will persevere. If you just hold onto that thread, that strength, you will live._ Out of nowhere a silvery thread appeared._

Reach it, touch it, hold on, you can do it._ The plants all murmered at once, goading him on._

Just touch that thread. It won't be good, it might never be, but there will be a chance that you will be able to work yourself out of the darkness. You deserve it._ Briar laughed mentally. If he died, no one would give a crap. In fact, a lot of people would be very happy. He was all too ready to give up when he saw Dart suddenly. It was too sharp, too clear, too sudden._

_"I dare you." he said._

_Barley lay on the ground, blood spilling from his wounds. "One thing, though, you know Fleetfoot? Don't let anyone harm her. She's been hurt. Don't let her get hurt. That's all. I think I have a few more hours." The voices of the dead echoed in his mind. He heard his mother's screech as she ran from his father. All these people had died around him? These people were worthless too. Who would remember them if he went? He grabbed onto the thread._

----

"He's coming out of his fever!" said the Healer excitedly.

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Author's Note: I hope you liked it, and didn't mind my preaching. No matter what your feelings are, I'll love to hear your opinions. Constructive critisism is always welcome, but I'd really appreciate if you were specific so I can fix the problem and try to prevent it in the future.  
Thanx Liarra


	15. Chapter 15

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: It isn't over yet. Actually, there's quite a lot more to go. Enahar may be defeated, but when there are impersonators, doubt, and self loathers running about, well, I can't call that an ending. All I'm going to tell you is that it just ain't over 'till it's over. + Hey! This is my FIFTEENTH chapter. Woot for me! This is my longest story ever(although Alina (an original story, you won't find it on fictionpress . com,is catching up pretty fast)! So, I'm just feeling proud of myself.

* * *

Something felt strange. It was different from a minute ago. It was as though he had just woken up from dreaming. Had that been a dream? He tried to remember what the dream had been about but he suddenly couldn't remember it. It was as though reality had just slammed into his face, and damn did reality hurt. Especially in the stomach for some reason. Oh yeah, that was where Enahar had stabbed him. So, it wasn't just reality. He was wounded. Hesitantly he opened one eye. There was some woman with a black eye standing over him with a very eager expression. Bracing himself for, well, anything he opened both eyes. The woman's grin was so large he wouldn't have been surprised if it had knocked a couple people out of the building. Speaking of building, where was he?

"Where am I?" he asked, croaking. Great, his voicebox was screwed as well as his stomach. And he was hungry too! Not that that was unusual, but it still wasn't very pleasant.

"Winding Circle Temple. Healers are treating you right now, hun." she said sympathetically. He hated sympathy. He didn't need sympathy. When he didn't say anything she asked, "How are you feeling?" Who said he could trust this woman? Sure, she was a healer, but for Winding Circle. And who had the pirates he belonged to just tried to enslave? Winding Circle. He had a funny feeling that anything he said could get him into some trouble. But he sure was blessed for being on land when he screwed over all those boats. Suddenly he saw the dead bodies in his mind and couldn't stop the nauseous feeling bubbling up his esophagus. So he leaned over and retched onto the floor. The rest of the afternoon was similiar, except there were a few people talking to all the slaves (probably the Watch or something) about the attack. Briar didn't feel comfortable telling them anything. He didn't want to be a hero, and he didn't want to be an enemy. He'd rather be another nameless slave.

"Are you sure you don't know what happened?" the man from the guard asked. Briar bit his lip to stop himself from hurting the man (not that he really could in his position, but it probably wasn't good for him to even try).

"Yes, I'm completely sure. Could you please stop asking me?" asked Briar, frustrated.

"Some girls did come in here to say that you helped them stop the pirate fleet with plant magic..." Briar glared with all his strength.

"I don't have magic! I didn't save anybody! Please! Leave me alone!" All he wanted to do was sleep. Briar sat up tensely in his bed and a nurse came to coerce him back down again.

"I think..." said another slave that sat beside him. The slave looked dodgedly at Briar, nervous. He cleared his throat. He seemed familiar. Did he know this guy? "I think... I mean, I know. It was me." The guard focused his eyes quickly onto the other slave curiously.

"What was you?" he asked immediately.

"I was the one who helped those girls kill Enahar. I mean... I'm not proud of it or anything, but that was what I did. I did it with my magic." he said quickly, looking at the guard attentively. Then suddenly it snapped into place. Ovik. He had helped him with the crates that day a long time ago... He could say something, declar this boy an imposter, a liar. But then again. Briar just wanted to be another normal slave. He didn't want special treatment, something this boy would probably get. In fact, this was all working out quite well.

The boy with a round face, wide mahogany eyes and a small nose looked nervous, as though intent on passing this first test. The guard stared for a minute, as though that was what would tell him whether or not he was lying. Miraculously, by the positive expression in the guard's face, Ovik had passed.

* * *

"That isn't him." said Daja immediately after seeing Ovik. She pointed to Briar, "That's him."

"I can honestly say I didn't help you." he was being honest, he didn't believe he had helped anybody. Daja rolled her eyes.

"That's him, he's just lying to you." she said firmly. Briar thought fast to direct the attention away from him. His face turned into a serious scowl.

"I wont lie about something like this to the Watch. I didn't help. I'm just a meaningless slave. Why don't you try asking this from someone who actually knows something about it." he folded his arms over his chest. The man from the Watch sighed defeatedly, it was obvious he wouldn't be getting any answers from this kid. He did know that this kid believed what he was saying though, otherwise his truth stone would have gone red by now. Maybe he should just completely give up on the kid? After all, that was what he wanted. If these girls thought he had done something special though, this kid could have been treated to a much more normal life as a mage-born. All it required was one small lie.

"I'll have you know you're missing out on something, kid." said the man. Briar shrugged. Yeah, he was missing something, but he was missing something he didn't want. The man turned to the other slave.

"So, you say you were the one that helped these girls?" he asked. If this kid said no he would throttle him. It had been a long day today. Rounding up the pirates, interrogating them and then heading back to Summersea to try and find more people to pull out of the rubble, then coming back here and hearing all this bull from the wounded pirates and then this kid isn't who everyone says he is... The kid, Ovik, (wasn't that his name?) nodded, seeming much more collected than he had the day before.

"Yes, I did." he was so smooth that the man believed him at once. Then he looked down at his truth stone, just to check, and saw it was red. Fury coursed through the man. He wanted this day to be over already! This kid didn't sound like he was lying! He decided right then and there that he was going to let the kid be who he said he was. The stone was just malfunctioning, that was all. He smiled at the boy, but only half a smile because he was too worried to give a real one. He hoped his commander wouldn't find out about what he was about to do. But he needed to go home and see his family.

"Okay, then I'll come back in tomorrow morning for an interrogation, just to check up on the facts." he said, waving good bye to the young boy and bringing Daja along with him. Daja was tense. This wasn't the boy who had helped them. She had carried the boy's magic in her for months, she knew who he was, and that imposter wasn't him. She was furious that the boy, (hadn't he said his name was Briar?) would let that imposter get the glory and the freedom that he had done nothing to deserve. The worst part about it all was that she could do nothing to stop the lie, no one woulkd listen to her. She was only a Trader exile, and worse, a child.

* * *

Author's Note: That took me a while to churn out. A bit short, too. But I hope you like it anyways. :D R/R! It's much appreciated! 


	16. Chapter 16

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: It's a tragedy how time and time again Briar is in some way or another betrayed, and little does he know, right now? He's betraying himself.

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The sandy-haired girl took one look at him. She wasn't sure whether to believe Daja or her uncle. The boy next to him also had a stomach wound, after all. They were both obviously slaves. Whatever choice she made would have to be her final decision.

Her uncle wouldn't lie to her. He was smart and usually right. She turned to her friends, final in her decision. "I think Uncle's right." she was final, but not completely sure. But, she had to be right. It made sense. Daja shook her head in disbelief. How could she think that? If only the boy hadn't blocked the three girls off from his magic, she would be able to show them that he was who she thought he was.

"He's different! Just talk to him!" Daja exclaimed.

"I won't bite." the boy said. Sandry blushed, even though she hadn't said anything offensive. Tris pursed her lips. He seemed just like every other boy she had met. "What's your name?" he asked, having eyes for Sandry alone.

"Sandry," she said warmly. Tris and Daja looked at each other. Unlike Sandry they weren't oblivious to his flattery.

"Have you heard of the mage Frostpine? Apparently he's brilliant. And Nikalaren Goldeye, too!" he said, trying to engage Daja and Tris.

"He's Daja's teacher. She's a metal-smith." said Sandry proudly.

"You smell of the smithy, now I think of it." he laughed, "It's a good thing." Tris couldn't help but notice the roll of the eyes the boy beside him gave Ovik and stifled a smile. She watched as he lured the other two girls into conversation. He would try and to her but eventually gave up. She wasn't to his taste, and found it a waste of effort. Bored, she looked around for something nearby to entertain her. Or, to let her learn something. She caught the eye of that boy, and he looked away quickly. Now, normally, such a boy would not even pike her curiousity but today she was very very bored. Besides, she was going to start working in the Water Temple in the morning and it would be nice to know someone here, if even vaguely. She really did hate getting to know people though. But, it was either that or the disgusting, sniveling display that Ovik was showing to the other girls.

"Hello." she said with as much empathy and kindness she could force into her voice. The boy stared at her blankly. Tris fought a blush, Sandry was obviously getting to her, that she was introducing herself to strangers.

"I'm not that guy who saved the temple." he said after a while, "So, you can lay of the kindness bit." Tris glared at him.

"I was just being being nice," she snapped, "So if you can't appreciate that then maybe I should just leave."

"Maybe you should." he replied. Tris fumed and spun round, heading to the door, but secretly thanking him to an excuse to leave the temple.

-----

The next morning Briar woke up and found her there, scrubbing the floors. He immediately shut his eyes again. It wasn't that he disliked the girl (not that he even knew her very well) but she was a bit cranky. If he were to tell this to anybody, however, they would probably tell him it was a bit rich coming from him. "I know you're up." she said casually.

"Why are you here, anyways?" he asked after being caught in the act.

She scrubbed the floor for a bit, thinking over her answer. Briar noticed the redhead's head was tied back in a particularely unflattering style. "Because I feel guilty about what I did to Enahar--to everyone on those ships." a sudden unexpected stab at grief overtook Briar. Oh yeah, the ships, the people on them. Fleetfoot... Tris looked at Briar and caught his expression but played the oblivious game. It really wasn't any of her business.

"Thanks..." he muttered.

"For what?" Tris asked, genuinely flabbergasted.

"For giving a shit." he replied.

-----

Somewhere else a girl lay on the sandy earth on the far outreaching beaches of Summersea. She didn't care that salt and sand covered her entire body like a blanket. All that mattered was the fact that she was alive. Gloriously, wonderfully, alive. She felt so tired. She had been swimming for miles. Thank the gods it was so hot in Summersea during the day and night, it had slowly but steadily heated the ocean to bearable temperatures.

She felt so alone... She was so alone. She didn't want to cry. She would become too dry. If only she could go to the people of Summersea and get water and food, maybe even work up an honest job. But, she was a criminal, she couldn't. She had become to involved with Pauha to be considered a mere slave, an unwilling participant. She had given her heart and soul to this job and the queen's work. Now it was all gone. She had nothing left. She was just the thief from Sotat, stranded in Summersea. And she was a alone again. First she had lost Barley, and now Pauha. She had sent Briar to Winding Circle, so she was sure he was fine. She wondered, should she even try to contact Briar again? She bit her lip, no, it would be better for him if she didn't. She set herself in resolution. She would not go to the city, she would find something to live on, some way to live, in a village where no one would know of Fleetfoot, Pauha's pirate.

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Author's Note: So dreadfully short, I apologize! But, reviewing would be so much loved and appreciated!


	17. Chapter 17

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my friend's wonderous guinea pig Tuffy, who died on Saturday, April 29th, 2006.

* * *

Glancing around to see if there were any nurses around Briar attempted to sit up on his own, trying to ignore the screams of his muscles in his abdomen. He bit down on his lip to help him ignore the pain, but it wasn't working and found himself cursing loudly within his mind. Maybe the healer was right and he shouldn't try to get up on his own quite yet. He fell back onto his cushions. Unfortunately for him he hadn't seen the figure near the doorway scrubbing the floor, and he had been in too much apin to notice when she got up. Because of this, he found himself slapped on the leg lightly with a dirty rag. He winced.

"Briar, you know you aren't supposed to try to get up yet. How many times does the nurse have to tell you?" Tris asked, her hand on her hip in that exceedingly irratating manner of hers. When he didn't answer she rolled her eyes.

"Why can't she just heal me like everyone else?" he snapped as he lifted his blankets up more closely to his frame.

"Because you're resistant to healing magic and your organs are very delicate right now." Tris repeated for the eighteenth time that day. "If you aren't careful you're going to start bleeding again." she glared at him, putting him off of the idea for another hour or so. She dropped to the floor to give it a good scrub where she could possibly have an interesting conversation. It was night again, and almost everybody was sleeping. It was quiet for a while, but of them submersed in their on thoughts.

"So." asked Briar uncomfortably, "When is my trial?" Tris looked up quickly and looked looked back down.

"Next week." she murmered. Briar clenched his teeth. He could say nothing, he could only surrender his mind to the immense implications. He was going to have a trial. he would probably be executed. A cold fear pulled in his chest. If he had said that he had in fact saved Winding Circle they wouldn't even be a trial. He closed his eyes, he had decided this, and he would follow through with it. If this was what would happen, then this is what would happen. He might be dead in a week.

* * *

While Briar was busy facing the horror of possibly being executed the next week, Ovik was being treated to his own room in Discipline. After all, he did have magic. He had given them the bull excuse that the reason he wasn't communicating to the girls through their magical connection was he felt guilty or something like that. He touched the soft sheets in delight. He deserved this, after three years of being tortured continuously by the pirates. Now they were going to go to trial next week and he was right here, with his own room and a chance to have his academic magic taught. It was a pity Enahar liked him so little, or else he would have been taught much sooner. "This place is wonderful." he told Sandry sincerely. She blushed and held out a rolled up wall-hanging that she had been carrying around with her all day.

"I'd like you to have this." she told him, forcing herself to stop herself from giggling. She watched eagerly as he unrolled it, a look of wonder showing in his eyes. She had spent the past few days embroidering it for him. It was a gold framed heavy cloth with the pattern of the ocean rolling out onto the beach and the beach turning to lush, green land with the sky glittering above and eagles circling overhead. She really was a brilliant embroiderer.

"This is... this is absolutely amazing, Sandry." the boy spoke breathlessly, and the girl beamed in pleasure at his words. She loved that look.

"Would you like to put it up?" she asked. He nodded vigorously and they climbed onto his bed to stretch the fabric over the wall. Once finished they stepped back to admire the pleasing affect on the room.

"How did you learn such brilliant embroidery skills?" he asked. Sandry blushed at the compliment. She really liked him. He was so sweet, even though he was a year or two older than her.

"Well, it's just something a lady has to know. I tended to enjoy it more than most. When my parents died, I was brought here and I found out that I had magic with stitching and threads and things." his face turned to one of great sadness and shock. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Your parents are dead?" he whispered. She looked to the side, feeling a bit uncomfortable suddenly. She nodded. "How did they die?" she turned her head to him, entranced by his eyes. She had never met anyone like him, so enigmatic and wonderful.

"There was a plague in Hatar... We were visiting." she swallowed, the wave of memories suddenly upon her again. "People everywhere were sick, all of a sudden. My mother and father, and Pirisi, she locked me up in a room. She told me she'd get me out when the plague was over. When it was safe." she closed her eyes as a wave of tears rushed to her face. "She was killed in the mob outside. I was all alone. My mother and father are dead, and so is Pirisi." she began to sob and the boy brought her to his chest, patting her hair.

"Sh..." he comforted her. She cried for an age, it seemed. She didn't like it when these sudden waves came on. After all, it had been less than a year ago that her parents had died. People expected her to just forget about it, but she couldn't. Sometimes she just needed to cry, and Ovik was such a nicely scented shoulder to cry on. He guided her to her bed as the sobs began to become fewer and just held her. Soon she was sleeping. After all, crying takes a lot out of a person. He gave her a sweet peck on the head and held her for longer, hoping she would wake up soon as his leg was beginning to fall asleep. He twitched it around for a bit, as he didn't want to have to amputate it or anything. He lay her down on her bed, gave her a quick hug and left for his own room, closing the door behind him.

"So what were you two talking about in there for so long?" asked Lark as she knitted patiently by the table. Ovik shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn't in the mood to repeat their conversation. And anyways, he doubted if Sandry would want him to. It was lucky for him that Daja came in at that moment, rubbing the sweat from her forhead with a dirty cloth. She was covered head to toe in soot, and Ovik had to stop himself from wrinkling his nose in disgust. He smiled instead.

"Hey Daja!" he called. She grinned her large, white-toothed grin.

"Hi Ovik." she plunked down into the chair and kept rubbing her face, determined to get that last bit of dirt off of her face. "I need a new cloth." she said offhandedly. "This one doesn't clean very well anymore." Ovik noticed then the red armband around her arm, but decided to ignore it. He didn't quite feel up to another set of hysterics today.

"Would you like to try making it, or should I?" Lark asked absentmindedly as she knit, glancing up every so often with an odd expression on her face at Ovik.

"I'd like to, but you know how awful I am with weaving so it's not going to be ready for another few months. I need one soon. Maybe I could start working on one for later though." she said as she wrung out the dirt from the cloth. Lark nodded, knowing how preoccupied Daja was with her metalwork. One could almost say she was obsessed, but Lark understood the burning desire to practice one's craft.

"I'll start on it tonight." she said. Daja grinned again.

"Thank you so much, LarK!" she stretched. "I'm going to go get cleaned up." she got up from her chair and meandered out the door to the baths, presumably.

"You and Sandry seem to be becoming very close." remarked Lark. She looked up this time, her eyes focusing straight on Ovik's enigmatic eyes. It was now Ovik's turn to blush.

"I-well, yeah, I mean... I guess so... She's nice." he finally got out. Lark smiled in that knowing way, leaving Ovik feeling bewildered. She knitted on, and he watched her, quite frankly having nothing better to do. He slumped to his side and waited for something to come and entertain him.

* * *

Author's Note: I can't believe I've written 17 chapters! I hope you liked the update, it would make me happy. If you did, review! Cause that makes me even happier and more inclined to write faster! Thanks a bunch, Liarra. 


	18. Chapter 18

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: One day I will have listened to so much musical music (I must expand my musical horizons or something...) that my head will explode. Or I'll be one of those robots whose head is flipping around and little sparks are coming out and it's playing random lines from songs. Not that I really mind, after all, that's all I really feel like listening to at the moment. Anyways, my point: Listen to Wicked, Rent, Avenue Q, Phantom of the Opera, West Side Story, Corpse Bride, The Colour Purple and I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. They're awesome. There's more, but I can't remember them right now. Those are just the memorable ones. Right now, I am parituclarely freakishly obsessed with Rent so, listent to that first. 'GET THE MOONLIGHT OUT OF YOUR HAIR!' woot! I love you Roger:) is fangirl happy

P.S. Everything I know about courtrooms comes from Law and Order, so don't get mad if it's weird.

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A judge sat in front of a group of jury, and to the other side of the room sat a bunch of hardened criminals, many with scars decorating their lips and faces. Many of the survivors were slaves that took a larger part than they should have in the pirates' wrongdoings, and who were now regretting their part in the action. Many of the slaves stared listlessly into space. Briar's instincts told him to join the number of those blocking themselves out from the world, but he couldn't. He reminded himself once more that he had decided to live, and if he was going to live he wasn't going to do it half-assed. He was going to do it right this time, earn his freedom properly (at the thought of the impeding trial his stomach clenched but he forced the thought from his mind) and live like a normal person. The judge banged his gravol obnoxiously and Briar felt the urge to roll his eyes but sustained from the action. After all, it was this person who decided his sentance if he was guilty.

Guilty. Him. Prison.

His thoughts were interrupted when the judge began to speak. Unlike his previous trial Briar listened closely. What was said here could help him to convince the jury. He could examine what they approved of and what they didn't. He made careful mental notes on the trials before his own, storing them all in his memory bank. Then his name was called and he forgot it all, his thoughts instantly replaced with nervousness and nausea.

"Briar, you call yourself?" the lawyer asked.

"My name is Briar, yes." said Briar, thinking it was a fairly strange question to open with.

"That's fairly strange, seeing as none of the other pirates talked to remember you as Briar, but rather as Roach." the lawyer paced the Summersea courtroom.

Briar paused, trying to explain his sudden change in identity to himself. "That isn't who I am anymore." he finally decided on replying, "I haven't been Roach for a long time." The lawyer nodded.

"Where were you raised?" he asked.

"What does this have to do with anything?" he asked right back.

"Mr. Moss, please just answer the question." droned the judge. Briar resisted from glaring and peaceably looked back at the lawyer.

"I was born in Hajra, Sotat." he replied.

"What kind of upbringing did you recieve?" he was asked. Briar shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the question. He simply wasn't comfortable with telling this group of high-class citizens about his life on the street.

"I was in a gang." he said.

"And what did you learn in your gang?"

"To steal." he answered. Briar was growing more and more agitated as the lawyer's irrelevant questions plodded on. Finally Briar stood up in anger. He refused to be convicted for something he didn't do on things that had nothing to do with the case.

"What are you doing?" asked the lawyer in alarm.

"I'm getting up. What does it look like? I'm not going to let you batter me questions about circumstances I couldn't change. I didn't choose to be born to a woman who would be killed when I was four. I didn't choose to wander the streets with little understanding of how to make it on my own," his voice was beginning to grow louder, "I didn't know what I was doing when I was six and took the only way out I could see! When I followed the closest thing I had to a family! When Slug got us caught, when I was sent to the docks! When Enahar picked me out, and when he threw me back out again like garbage? If I had known any other way to get through it, believe me, I would have, but I wasn't exactly offered any options. If you're going to give me a trial, I'd like one that actually has something to do with what happened at Winding Circle, not this bull to convince people that because I wasn't brought up 'properly' I am some kind of evildoer." Briar finally stopped, his angry words suddenly gone and anxiety replacing his anger.

"Are you done yet?" asked the lawyer.

"Yes." replied Briar Moss.

"Well would you sit down then?" asked the judge.

"If you promise to give me a fair trial." said Briar, feeling completely stupid for bursting out like that. Maybe he really was a different person now, that wasn't usually something he would do. Once again he pushed the thought from his mind, it scared him too much.

"I promise to give you a fair trial," the judge's voice seeped with condescension. Briar's face grew hot as he sat down submissively. This action felt so familiar, and for that he was ashamed. When he had been little he had never pictured himself as someone who would bow to the faintest amount of pressure put on his shoulder, tumble at the slightest hint of anger. Kiss authority's ass.

"Well then, Roach, or, Mr. Moss at least, tell us your account of what happened on the night of the attack on Winding Circle." the lawyer posed the question, and with the seriousness of determination Briar answered. He stopped at the part when he was searching for books. He neglected to mention where he looked, and then only told of what happened with a third-person's account in a vague but detailed way that stated the facts without hinting how much of a commotion he caused.

He ended his statement with one comment, "I never killed anybody. All I did was load boxes, and look for books. I never even got a chance to steal them." he said.

A few other pirates came up to speak, as well as a few people from Winding Circle and those from the Water Temple. Much to the lawyer's annoyance, none of the evidence pointed to him as someone who deserved to be charged, so he let him go free on the grounds that, seeing as he obviously had a criminal record, he was never arrested again." Briar agreed, a nervous spark light up in his chest. What would he do for a living if he couldn't steal? It was all he knew how to do. The new him stomped out the whiny part of himself firmly. He would learn to do something else, that was all. He had decided to live, and he wasn't going to do so half-assed.

"Briar Moss, you are innocent of all crimes. You may leave the court room." Briar got up from his seat with the convicts and left the courtroom, relief washing over him. If anything right now was certain for him, it was that he never wanted to do this again.

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Law and Ordery? Oh yeah, I know. Sorry it's so short and stuff, but this had to happen sometime. And anyways, I have finals in a week or something (oh dear) so I probably shouldn't even be writing but I was just thinking, hey, I haven't in a long time so I may as well. And so I did. Yeah... that's my tale of how this happened. -coughs- anyways, Read and review! I love you all, every review makes a bigbigbig difference!


	19. Chapter 19

One World, No Coincidences

Author's Note: Oh yeah. I'm bad. I haven't updated in... Like a month and a half. I mean, it could be worse. I'm sorry. (  
BTW-Do any of you reviewers know how freakishly awesomely cool you are? If you didn't, this is a reminder. I dedicate this chapter to all of of you who have ever reviewed this or any other story. It means so much to us author-types.

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"We can't just feed him to the wolves!" snapped the ten-year-old Trisana Chandler. Lark's mouth flapped open a bit, unsure of her response. What could she do to help this boy? He was just a slave on a ship. Yes, she felt pity for him but why did Tris care so much for him?

"Tris..." she began. She glanced up at the girl's face, and found her to be close to tears. She gave up. "I'll see what I can do." the girl nodded slowly, obviously unsure of whether or not anything would actually get done. Lark cleared her throat and removed herself from the kitchen where they sat. She paced the spinning room, thoughts spinning through her head. She could always give the boy to the temple so he could become one of those in the dormitory. She doubted Moonstream would go for that. He had no magic, nor did he have any wealthy parents to vouch for him. She could take him in herself... but this was not a place for magicless boys. There had to be a way to keep him safe and healthy, and yet not enroll him anywhere. Maybe he could take residence in a temple? Once again, he had no magic. The temple was for apprentices and dedicates. Maybe he could get some sort of job within Winding Circle? Or maybe in Summersea, there was still so much work to be done. The city was a mess. Yes, that would be what she would ask Moonstream. To let this boy reside in the dorms and work either in Winding Circle, or help to rebuild Summersea. She stood still a moment, unwilling to go and ask Moonstream. She sighed. Tris had asked her to find a place for her to stay. All these girls had been hurt so much in their short lives, especially Trisana. She had to do this one minor thing for the girl. She had to at least try.

She strode from Discipline Cottage and into the building that held Moonstream's office and rapped on the door. The conversation inside came to a quick halt. "Who is it?" asked Moonstream from within.

"It's Lark." said Lark unsurely. She hoped she wasn't interrupting on anything too important.

"Come on in!" said Moonstream brightly, and Lark relaxed a little bit. She opened the door and shut it behind her quickly. When she saw who sat within the room with Moonstream Lark wasn't sure if she should be happy or not. Skyfire was a good man, and a good mage, after all, but would he help her help this boy?

"Do you have a moment, Moonstream?" asked Lark somewhat nervously. She rarely asked Moonstream of anything. Moonstream nodded slowly.

"Yes I do. Is it something private or...?" she asked, but Lark shook her head.

"No it's nothing pprivate."

"Then sit yourself down." Moonstream gestured to the seat in front of her. Lark sat. "Now what would you like?" Lark supressed the urge to twiddle her thumbs and told Moonstream of the boy Tris had grown so fond of.

"And I don't quite know what to do with him... I probably would give him a second thought if it weren't for Tris. If you could only find him something to do within Winding Circle, or even in Summersea, I suppose, I would be so grateful, Moonstream." Lark finished hastily, watching the faces of her colleagues. Moonstream was pondering it, she was sure, and so was Skyfire. That Skyfire was thinking on it was confusing. What did it matter to him?

"There's always something to do in Winding Circle, but I can't for the life of me think where he would sleep, unless he wanted to help out in the hospitals..." Moonstream began.

"I don't mean to interrupt you," said Skyfire, holding up his hand with a questioning look on his face, "What with the earthquake and now the pirates there is more damage in Summersea than we can handle right now. There are still people missing and people need to rebuild their homes. Every person who can possibly help is needed." Lark frowned.

"This boy was stabbed in the stomach. I don't think physical labour would be the best option for him right now." she said tensely.

"All of these slaves were hurt in some way. Mentally, physically. Does it matter? They'll get over it, they'll recover. And anyways, I was at this boy's case. He was one of the slaves who attacked Winding Circle. Does he really deserve to get this preferential treatment?" Lark ground her jaw angrily. Maybe he did not deserve to get preferential treatment, but just because his master ordered him to do something didn't mean he was no longer a human being! He had done wrong, but so had so many other people in the world! She couldn't condemn him for what he had done in the past. She ould only help him do better in the future. "Anyways," continued Skyfire, oblivious to Lark's pursed lips, "unless there is something special about this boy that seperates him from the slaves I don't think he should be treated like there is."

Lark was about to snap at him when Moonstream hastily spoke, "I think Lark is right. He's been wounded in the stomach, physical labour wouldn't be good for him. Emelan is a fair country, we aren't going to force the sick to work in such a field. Perhaps when he is completely healed I will send him to help out within the city." she turned to Skyfire, "You've proved your point. Talk to the healers in the Water Temple to see which of the slaves would be willing for some work in Emelan." she looked at him pointedly and he got up out of his chair. There was a smug expression on his face as he turned around and bowed to Moonstream.

"Thank you, Dedicate Superior." Moonstream watched without hint as to what she was thinking. She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled some particularely stressful air and faced Lark again.

"So what do you propose we do with him?" she asked. Both of the women were relaxed with Skyfire out of the room. Although Lark wasn't one to have enemies, she and Skyfire had never gotten along. Lark furrowed her brows, unsure. Her unsurity had been the reason why she had come to Moonstream in the first place.

"Who in Winding Circle always needs a helping hand?" asked Lark softly. Then it suddenly occured to them both, saying it in unison.

"Gorse."

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I love that Cook. He rocks. Sorry for the shortness. This was a transition chapter, and part two of Briar's story will come into its place of full drama. Just wait! It's coming. :D I love those reviews you send me. Every those is welcome and important.  
+School is starting. I have mixed feelings. +Books to read: Pledged by Alexandra Robbins & Random Family by Adrian Nicole LeBlanc. Soooo good. 


	20. Chapter 20

One World, No Coincidences 

I am so obsessed with Disney. Did you know the Little Mermaid came out? Anyways, for my big story I got a boot shoebox ad I put in my manuscript. I'm so happy I found that. It makes life so much easier. It's amazing the little things that make you happy.

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When Briar first stepped foot into Gorse's kitchen, the smells had overwhelmed his senses, sending him into a delcious daze of scents. Gorse offered the all-too-skinny youth something to eat, which he readily accepted. He was then put to busy, busy work for the rest of the day. This happened the next day when he came in again, and then the next.

Once in a while he would try to nick something, which Gorse never appreciated very much. He would be telling Briar countless times over the next month that if he wanted something he only had to ask. After all, food was for eating, not looking at. Mind, when nobles who came around, they demanded the food look prettier than it tasted, which was something Gorse wouldn't stand for so the food ended up looking so dazzling that it's unbelievably fantastic taste was acceptable. Such meals always had so much left over, which that staff would take home to their families, and Briar had recently suggested that they give the rest to Urda's house. It ought to be a crime to waste so much food that could be given away to street rats. After all, who had less food than someone in the slums? To be given Gorse's food was an absolute treat. He would have given anything for a meal like the nobles got when he was a street rat. In fact, he still would. His stomach and mind were not yet used to fancy foods. It would be years before he ever would be.

---

Ovik stared at the ceiling blankly, hey eyes not seeing what they looked at. His mind was a country away, across the Pebbled Sea, in Scanra. He could see his sister's smile as she looked at the Miller boy. The image of his mother lying on the floor, crying for his father was so real he could almost touch it. She looked up at him in his memory.

"Mommy?" he had said. "Where's Daddy?" she had shaken her head,biting her lip so hard she drew blood. Tears trickled down from her eyes.

"Your Daddy left, baby." she said, just barely. He had frowned, he remembered, and when his mother had seen the downwards curl of his mouth she had once more burst into tears. He had gone over to comfort her, and she had completely broken down.

His reverie was broken when he heard a rap on his door. Angrily he pulled it open. "What?" he growled snappishly. Sandry pulled away from him, her hand still placed where it had been before to knock. His expression softened at the sight of her. "Sorry." he said more kindly.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to pick some things up for Lark from Dedicate Gorse." she said nervously. Anything to rid his mind of his thoughts.

"Yeah, okay." he closed the door behind himself, and walked with her to the Hub. Sun shone from every corner of Winding Circle. It was beautiful. Home hadn't been like this. It had been dark, dank, and dingy. The men were raised not to show that they hurt except in anger, and the women were taught not to think for themselves. His father had been a good man, though. He may have never cried, but he never hit either. His mother had been a good woman, and she had been destroyed when his father had died.

"So, Ovik, tell me about yourself." said Sandry cheerfully. His heart warmed a little. She was a sweet girl, and her intentions were good. He wasn't too sure what to make of her, though, being a noble and all. It made him a little uncomfortable that she was being so good to him, a released criminal. He thought for a little while, not of his answer, but whether or not to reply at all. In the end he decided to. An alliance with a noble could never hurt.

"Well, my pa died when I was seven." he didn't tell her that his pa was a merchant, nor did he tell her that his mother was his mistress.

"Do you miss him?" she asked, and he could see her struggling to keep in her emotions. He stopped in the middle of the road and put a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" It seemed to click in his mind a bit and he continued, "Did your father die?"

Sandry nodded. "And my mother. In Hatar-there was an epidemic and.." he could see she was unable to finish her sentence. He wrapped his arms around her spontaneously and shushed her comfortingly.

She didn't know why or how, but she completely let go of any pretenses, and just cried. It was barely six months ago that they had died. They were her parents, and she needed to cry about it sometimes. Ovik seemed like the perfect person to cry with. His hands patted down her hair and she rested her head in the nook between his head and shoulder. "Sh.." he murmured.

---

"Briar! Flour!" called Lateef, one of the cooks in Gorse's kitchen.

"And bring five tomatoes while you're all it!" yelled Orva, a pretty girl with strong eyebrows and very powerful arms. She was baking some pastries, the apprentice baker.

"Only if I can have a biscuit!" Briar shouted back as he picked up the requested ingredients.

"Deal!" she said as her tomatoes were placed in front of her and Briar sped to Lateef with the heavy package of flour. Light burst in from the door as some people entered. His heart sank as he saw who it was. Ovik and Sandry. They weren't exactly his favorite people, although he wasn't quite sure why. He couldn't really blame Ovik for taking that chance of glory and freedom, and he didn't object to it, so he really shouldn't be angry with him. Nonetheless, he was a little annoyed.

"Briar," said Ovik cooly. He had always been very suave, cool, always knowing exactly what to do and when to do it. Briar couldn't help but be suspicious of such a trait. It had been in Ed, and he could see it in Ovik. Briar nodded to Ovik, turning his attention to his orders. Sandry was completely oblivious to the sudden tension between the boys and was chatting to Dedicate Gorse. Noticing she wasn't paying any attention, Ovik stepped forward to Briar, "I hope you're enjoying the kitchens. I doubt you'll last here long." Briar stopped in his tracks. What did that mean? His heart began tobeat rapidly, though he didn't show his sudden nervousness.

"Yeah, maybe I'll steal your spot this time, don't you think Ovik?" whispered Briar back. Ovik just scowled and returned to Sandry, a protective arm slung over her shoulder. She looked at him a little confused, but didn't say anything, just kept talking to Dedicate Gorse. Finally they left, but Briar still felt uneasy about Ovik's words.

---

That evening Tris and Daja sat in the kitchen, Daja absentmindedly playing with some screws, and Tris feeding her starling. Sandry and Ovik were outside in the garden, talking again.

"I don't like him." said Tris to Daja, blocking her connection to Sandry. Daja looked at her in surprise.

"Why not? He's nice." Tris made an exasperated noise and went back to her starling. He pinched her finger with his sharp beak and she popped the swelling digit into her mouth. Daja shrugged slowly and turned her attention back to her screw.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry I took such a long time to write this. I had a bit of a block for a loooong time, but now I'm getting back on the ball. I love every one of the reviews I get. Especially the long ones. :) Your opinions mean a lot, and I love hearing every one of them, good or bad. Thanks for reading! 


	21. Chapter 21

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: Haha, I'm not in grade seven anymore, lol. I'm in grade nine-- almost ten now that it's summer. I was in grade seven when I started the story but I er, have... irregular work patterns... cough

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Tris had nightmares. Not just mildly frightening falling-down-the-staircase nightmares, either. More along the lines of heart-stopping tear-inducing nightmares with corpses drifting down bload-stained oceans. That day that had caused it all was so clear in her mind. Imprinted there, for all eternity. Just thinking about it washed her in cold. Tonight's nightmare was unusually bad.

She was back on that ship, with Enahar. Her lightning cracked like a whip, flickering dangerously in the air. The man had looked ragged in the storm, his eyes wild with fury. Bolts had flown from the ship as it broke itself apart. Then out of thin air he had appeared, like a ghost or an apparition, but not. He was real. Young, with olive skin and short cropped brown hair. The boy named Briar. Satisfaction crept onto Enahar's face as he plunged his dagger into Briar. She wanted to do something, she wanted to help him! She tried but her magic was gone, she couldn't move! She was only in the Hub, she couldn't get to him in time, he was dying, dying! Briar was dying and she couldn't help him-

She awoke with a start, her heart thudding rapidly, blinking away stubborn tears. Why did she keep on dreaming about that day? She wished the nightmares would just go away for good, and she could forget that day ever happened. Anger boiled suddenly, furious at herself. She could never forget that day! She had killed so many people that day, and to just forget that she had done it, forget them!

It was suddenly too hot in her evening shift and she had to get out from under her covers. Cold wind licked playfully at her cheeks and she smiled, slightly comforted. Even though she knew it wasn't a dream, at least for a moment she could forget that expression on Enahar's face as he had set out to kill . . .

Wait, Briar? Why had he tried to kill Briar? Hadn't he tried to kill Ovik? Dazily, she remembered. No. He had tried to kill Briar. She couldn't even remember Ovik from that night. He could have been in Chammur for all she knew. She couldn't remember him at all, except for at the end of the night when those still able carried the wounded back to Winding Circle for the chance to heal. He had been carried in on another man's back, blood caked slimily onto a wound on his side. A wound that hadn't been caused by a weapon, but more likely a misplaced floorboard.

Why was she even thinking about this, trying to convince herself that Briar had been there, not Ovik? She knew Ovik hadn't been there when they had defeated Enahar! Briar had! And Daja knew it, too. Perhaps if Sandry were willing to get her head out of the clouds and look at Ovik clearly she would see what the rest of them did, but no. She was too preoccupied. How had the boy weedled his way in? How had he weedled his way into Discipline, where the teachers were kind, and the food was good? Weedled his way into their circle? The one that, if she remembered correctly, Briar was a part of. Except, back then, Briar had been called Roach. It was all too confusing, she thought as she paced her room, hot and cold at the same time.

What was that? Her eye had caught something in the moonlight. A scrawny figure was lying back in the grass, looking blissful, head in his hands. Briar. She could tell by looking at him. She had seen him every day for over a month, heard his aggravating responses, bantered with him as well as she could. She didn't hate him.

Wind trickled around her ears as she watched him lay there in the grass. Watching him was peaceful, enough so that she soon felt relaxed enough to fall back to sleep.

-------

For reasons Briar didn't want to understand, he hadn't been able to sleep very well in Winding Circle. At first he had thought he wasn't tired enough when he got to bed, and had taken to running feverishly around the wall of Winding Circle. After many nights of collapsing into bed, falling immediately to sleep and almost immediately waking up again he had decided that the practice wasn't quite worth it. He couldn't understand why sleep didn't come. He only knew the great uneasy feeling that grasped at his chest in the hours most people slept. Eventually his body would shut down and he would sleep, but it was always more of an effort than he would have liked.

Tonight, though, something had inspired him to sleep outside. He wandered a bit, feeling much like a fussy cat searching for the perfect spot. In the near distance he felt some really happy plants. He sped up, heading in the direction of the plants. Perhaps he thought that if he joined the happy plants he would catch some of their happiness and the peace that came along with it. Maybe if he were near these plants he would be able to sleep. That would be a nice change.

Edging nearer to the plants he began to feel oddly comforted. There was a garden, but though the plants felt happy, some of them looked prickly. He settled on lying back in the grass. Head in his hands, he drifted to sleep easily. Just a moment before he drifted off to the point of no return he wondered how he ever could have had any trouble.

------

The next night Tris found herself curiously waiting up to see if Briar would come and sleep near her window again. She wasn't disappointed. Wondering why he went down there to go to sleep, especially so low in the grass, she nestled into her warm, comforting bed. It was easier to sleep that night.

As curious as she had been the first night, or the second, it could not compare to the confunded bewilderment she felt on the twelfth night of this strange occurrence. After mulling it over for a time, she had decided she would confront him about it, preferably when he woke up in the morning. Every morning when she woke up, he was always gone. She had asked around a bit (well, a lot) and it turned out he was working in the kitchens. But, talking to him in front of so many people made her feel a bit nervous. He had never called her any names, but what if he was just like all the other boys, only he pretended to be decent when no one else was around? No, she would rather talk to him one on one.

So, set on waking up early she went to sleep before it was even dark, determinedly blocking the sun with her thick curtains. The whole day had been rushed, in an attempt to prepare for the early start of the next one. And start early she did. When morning gunk held closed her eyelashes, a peek at the curtains told her the sun had not yet risen. Perfect. As quickly as she could, she got into her day clothes and rushed outside. There he was, sleeping. The peacefulness in his features disheartened her from awakening him, but otherwise she never would. So, never one to be subtle, she gave his shoulder a shake. "You're sleeping in the grass." she pointed out.

Briar, instantly awake, slipped his hands into all the cracks he had held his knives. Had held. He hadn't found any yet, here in Winding Circle. Then his eyes met Tris's and he realized he wasn't in any danger, was he? "What are you doing, waking me up?" he asked in an accusing tone.

Tris placed a hand on her hip and raised a cynical eyebrow. "You've been sleeping here for the past two weeks and I want to know why." she waited for his answer patiently. Briar considered lying, a thousand ideas popping to his mind. But, this girl had cleaned around him for ages. Not exactly the most ambitious persuit, but they had talked and he quite liked the girl.

"I haven't been able to sleep too well," he admitted. Tris nodded as though this were a common thing.

"Why here, then?" she asked, her arms on her hips as she stared down at him. To her surprise, Briar-wait, hadn't he introduced himself as Roach when she had met him that night? She pursed her lips, thoroughly confused. Whatever, he had chosen to call himself Briar, and for now, she would too. Anyways, Briar blushed. Tris raised a slow eyebrow. She waited for him to speak, patient to hear his answer. Once he realized she wouldn't speak Briar begrudgingly continued.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a nice spot. If I go by the Hub Gorse'll find me come morning."

"So that's where you've been since your side healed?" she asked. He nodded. "How do you like it?" she asked.

His face lit up. "It's brilliant. There's always something to eat." he grinned. Tris smiled back wryly. Before she had the time to come up with one of her dry but clever responses the Hub rang out its bells. Briar's head snapped in its direction. "I'd better get moving now." he said pleasantly. She watched him as he gathered himself and quickly walked over to the Hub.

He didn't trust her, she could tell. She didn't think he trusted anybody. But then again, neither did she.

No. That was a lie. She trusted Sandry and Daja, and Lark and Rosethorn and Niko, even if only tentatively. But Briar didn't trust her. He didn't trust anybody. For reasons she did not understand, Tris wanted Briar to trust her, if only a little. Maybe it was because he hadn't yet called her fat, or looked at her strangely, or scorned her in anything but coy humor. Winding Circle was teaching her to trust. She just hoped it wasn't in vain.

-----

Fleetfoot lazed on a pub barstool, slightly drunk and staring into the eyes of a bushy man from somewhere or another. He looked like Barley, a little. Something in his nose. It looked all bumpy, and its tip was round. She liked bumpy noses with round tips. She must have said it out loud, because he gave her a smug grin. He grabbed her nose gently and flirtatiously, "Your nose is quite pretty itself." he said, his thin lips curved into a smile. He gave it a tweak. She grinned. Her nose was small and smooth, but she was quite fond of it. Barley had always commented on it.

They had ended up talked for quite a while that night. And then there was some kissing. And giggling. As drunk as she was, she might have done a little more had he not noticed and given her a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, love," he had said in his fantastic lower class Emelan accent. He had mussed her hair and kissed her on the cheek. She had blushed. Then he had left.

She had seen him again the next night, just as he had told her he would. Then the next, and the next. His sweet, prickly kisses intoxicated her. His rough hands raised goosebumps on her flesh. Now here she lay wanting, if not more, to get to know him. Properly. To see the world with him. To have him hold her again. But he was leaving, and if he left, she would never see him again. She would lose him just as she had lost Barley. She had loved Barley, and maybe she could love him too.

Her eyes drifted to where he lay on the inn bed. She had stayed with him for the past few nights. He looked so sweet as he slept. She ran a thin finger over his blonde bearded cheek. Sleepily he reached out for her, pulling her to him.

What did she have to lose? She would go with him to the Battle Islands. A smile graced her sad lips as her head rested on his chest. Maybe this would work.

-----

Ovik watched Briar carrying something in a wicker basket from the kitchens warily. This boy threatened everything he had gained. A life, a home, a future. Maybe even one day he might marry Sandry. She was pleasant. And Sandry was a noble. He could become a noble. But should this boy speak even a word of this, should he let the truth be known, everything would be lost. He knew the saying-A secret between two was only safe with one.

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Author's Note: Dun dun dun dun. I hope that was sufficiently long for my EXTREMELY long absence from this story. I'm still writing! I don't know why I didn't for so long actually... Anyways, all thoughts are welcome! Thanks. :D


	22. Chapter 22

One World, No Coincidences 

Author's Note: I've always wanted to have to scroll the chapter menu to reach the latest. I'm so proud of my chapter count! 22 and going strong!

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Ovik watched Briar carrying something in a wicker basket from the kitchens warily. This boy threatened everything he had gained. A life, a home, a future. Maybe even one day he might marry Sandry. She was pleasant. And Sandry was a noble. He could become a noble. But should this boy speak even a word of this, should he let the truth be known, everything would be lost. He knew the saying-A secret between two was only safe with one.

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"Heave, ho! Bread and butter,  
One for many a man!"

A kitchen girl belted loudly as she worked. The song was repetitive in lyrics, so she changed the tune a little each time she sang. Soon the entire kitchen sang with her, the tune varied and unharmonious, but pleasant nonetheless. A girl of no more than 12 held up her hand, and sang a playful solo of her own, enhanced by her strong, thunderous voice. Some men laughed and responded with their heavy baritones, and a beautiful 18 year old with promising cook magic gave a lovely soprano of her own.

Briar slept on a mountain flour, oblivious to the whole thing.

The nightmares wouldn't stop. At this point he'd give anything to make them end, but they wouldn't. They grew louder by the day, as though the dead were asking him to right his wrongs by acknowledging his lie. A painful kick in the side woke him this time. A gruff looking young man was the one who had done it, his ready fingers curled around a sack of flour. "Git up, kid." he said with a snarl. Briar did as he was told, recognizing the look of an 'adult'. He knew the type. Older than he and sure they knew the ways of the world. These ways indicated children were less valuable, and less intelligent than themselves, and they acted in kind. Perhaps they just treated the world the way it treated them, but Briar didn't think too much on it. He just knew to beg and simper and get out as fast as his legs could carry him.

He just about jumped and hastily clamored off the sacks of flour to reach the door. Satisfied, the man smirked at him. Briar sped out the door and out of the hub and stuffed his fingers into his thread worn pockets. If nothing else he knew to trust his instincts, and something told him that dog just didn't bathe in the right water, if in any at all. What was he doing in Gorse's kitchens? Gorse was the honest type, a man Briar respected more than anybody else. He didn't seem like he'd want someone like that in his kitchens, poking around, gaining access to the Hub and all its power. A drop of fear seized Briar's heart. The Hub. What if that man didn't work in the kitchens, not really? And he was only snooping to gain information for pirates, or something of the sort? Without another thought through his mind he raced back inside.

A wide thump sounded from where Briar had been sleeping on the flour sacks. Boots smacked the stone floor with the gentle sound of leather soles. Then the sound stopped. A scraping sound, indicating the man had turned. Then pacing. Adrenaline bleeding through his veins he walked back in, trying as hard as he might to look idle. "Excuse me, sir?" though he was not even near a sir, "Are you looking for something?"

The man scowled. "No, now bugger off!" If nothing else the man's response only convinced Briar that he did indeed have something to hide.

"You sure? 'Cause I know these kitchens like the back 'o my hand." Briar grinned and demonstrated impishly. The man's mood suddenly changed from gruff to angry. His leather boots no longer sounded soft as he pounded them into the stone. Large fingers grasped the nape of Briar's tunic.

"Now you listen here, you're to leave, and you're to go now. Not in a minute, not in two, now. You're going to turn around and go back to whatever little fancy pancy work you has with Gorse and you're to leave me alone." Just to make Briar to remember he was to leave, the man shoved him not-so-gently into the wall. "You hear me?"

He still hadn't let go of his tunic. Briar nodded. The fingers relaxed unwillingly. "Good. Now scram." Briar, to all appearances, did as he was told. What the man didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Or rather, it wouldn't hurt Briar.

As soon as the other man was out of site Briar tip-toed about a room behind him as quietly as a mouse. He heaved a sack of flour onto his shoulder as an excuse just in case he got caught. Then he hid and waited. Quiet. Then a sound. "Marro." she said, her voice slow and seductive in its need. Cloth rustled as they drew together. Oh, Briar thought. That would explain a lot. He took a peek in. She wasn't the prettiest of girls, but he definitely seemed to like her looks. His eyes widened a little at the way they held each other. How could a man who barely thought before slamming a boy into a wall be so gentle to a woman? The pair looked into each other's eyes meaningfully.

What happened next would cause Briar's first serious bruise since coming to Winding Circle. The woman must have seen him, because she tilted her head a little to the side with a confused look gracing her pockmarked features. Seeing her distraction Marro turned and saw him. Again. When he had specifically been told to keep away. Marro's massive fists clenched as he lumbered towards Briar, flame rotting at his eyes. Too late, Briar thought to run. He had been lured into a false sense of security at Winding Circle, and for that he would pay. Almost twice his size Marro took him and begin to hit with the hand that wasn't latched onto the boy's collar. Briar squirmed trying to get away and leave, be safe. But no, Marro was too strong, and big, and old. Just like it always was. He tried to pummel him but he was too small and young and scrawny. Just like he always was. Finally Marro seemed to have had enough and he thrust Briar into the wall, the stone snapping at his head.

There Briar lay, not stupid enough to try to get him back. He had thought he would be safe here. In this place of magic and learning. He didn't want to have to look over his shoulder anymore. He didn't want to have always have his fists up or knives resting against his belly. His worry of being without his knives had only just faded recently. And now it was back. Yay.

Getting up from his place on the floor, Briar's thoughts turned to the comely woman. Why hadn't she stopped it? And why would she ever want to be with such a man? He vowed he would never be like that. Filth. Dirt. Scum. He would never hit a child like that. A stinging in his face left warning of a bruise, and a big one at that. One to be proud of, if he didn't tell the story. Not that he'd be able to get out of telling Gorse. The man was too smart not to know Briar was lying when he was.

Briar sighed, rubbing his sore arm. (When he checked, it too was forming a bruise.) He just hoped he hadn't made an enemy. Or two.

-  
Author's Note:  
Erm. Yeah. Long time no.. see? Write? My only explanation for this is that Grade 10 is a very busy year. Obviously not as busy as, say, Grade 11 or 12, but up there. But! Oh that wondrous but. But, I am getting pretty fast at typing! I'm not sure if that means anything at all to anyone but myself but it's a true fact. Isn't that lovely? Just for the heck of it I'd like to recommend Miss Snark's retired but excellent literary blog to any wannabe writers. She is an agent who details things such as cover letters, query letters, paper size, etc. You think it, it's there. I just discovered it yesterday and having quite a time procrastinating on there. May you procrastinate just as well! Search her on google (Miss Snark) and she'll come up near the top. I'd put in a link but Fanfiction won't let me.

Enjoy, and don't forget to click that little purple button in the left hand corner of the screen! Lots of thank yous for any comment, no matter how good or bad.


	23. Chapter 23

One World, No Coincidences

Author's Note: This update is long overdue. For those of you who have stuck with me all these years, thank you. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter in the story. 3

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Sandry came popped into the kitchen for what seemed like the fiftieth time that morning to check the state of Little Bear and the bags. "Should I bring my black dress with ruffles or the one with the pink roses embroidered into it?" she asked anxiously. She, Tris, Daja and Ovik were about to go with her Uncle, Duke Vedris, on a tour across Summersea. She wished she were able to wear more than just the dreary black as she did at home, but the nobles would expect her to be in full mourning until weeks after it was normally appropriate. In all truth, she was dreadfully nervous about the trip, although she would never admit it.

"We could be away 'till early spring, bring both." Daja said. She had already packed her bags and had nothing to worry about. Sandry seemed to agree, so carefully folded the dresses and put them into her bag. Daja smiled encouragingly, "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

There was the distinct sound of hooves outside the cottage as their horses arrived to bring them to Vedris's palace, where they would meet him before beginning their journey. Anxiously, Sandry emitted a squeak. "Five minutes," she said and ran to her bedroom. As she left Tris came in, looking pleased with herself. She wasn't wearing the nice dress Sandry had made for her, she said she was about to travel for months and there was no reason to look pretty when you were traipsing about like that, even if it was with nobility.

"Five minutes my foot," she grumbled. "At least when I get back my room will be just as I left it. I gave it a thorough looking-over this morning, just to make sure there was nothing undesirable to be found." She looked out the window at the horses. There were two, strapped to a caravan.

"Want to go find Lark? I'll get Rosethorn." Daja volunteered. Tris nodded and they scampered off to find the women. Moments later they came, looking fresh and ready to go. Rosethorn lugged her bags into the kitchen and then proceeded to delegate the remaining tasks to the girls and Ovik. In a matter of minutes the caravan was packed and they were seating somewhere on the caravan. Lark sat up front with the driver chatting amiably while Rosethorn sat at the back with the three students.

For them, the next months passed quickly. The only kinks in their plans occurred in Gold Ridge Valley, where they were barely able to stop a forest fire alone. Rosethorn had suffered for the power she put into the trees, but had recovered. Daja found herself growing living metal now on her hand because of the fire. Briar, on the other hand, decided that winter that he was the luckiest boy in Winding Circle. Dedicate Gorse had recognized his passion for food and allowed him to work in the kitchens. As an apprentice, but nonetheless, he was more than just a carrying boy now.

His favorite task in the kitchen was side duty. Sides tended to be things like rice and vegetables and he got to use spices that smelt like the fragrant gardens kept by the wealthy. Long after the inhabitants of Discipline Cottage returned from wherever it was that they had gone (someone had said something about a tour of Emelan with Duke Vedris) Briar found himself cooking a cool chickpea salad. Summer was just now approaching and Gorse had decided that today, since it was especially hot, they would begin to prepare what he called 'summer food'. Briar was all for it. He had the ingredients laid out in front of him as directed by the second-in-command:

5 small pouches of pre-soaked chickpeas 5 tomatoes, seeded and diced 2 1/2 medium bell peppers, seeded and diced 5 small onions, finely chopped 5 small cloves of garlic, minced 5 tablespoons of freshly chopped parsley 10 tablespoons of olive oil 5 whole lemons, juiced

He recited the ingredients and the instructions over and over to himself as he cooked. There was a set of instructions, but he couldn't read, so although he occasionally stared blankly at the page to give the impression of reading, he had to memorize the instructions. Luckily for something as simple as a chickpea salad all he had to do was toss the ingredients together and present them. He was done far early than many of the others and found himself leaning on the counter next to the large bowl of salad as he looked out the window. The wind fluttered the petals of flowers, the grass perfectly happy in the gentle breeze moved with the wind, and even the flowers on the fruiting trees seemed to whisper summer. He could feel it in the roots, the ground, the plants. They all seemed eager for its coming, so he was too. They were so ready for wild, rapid, eager new growth. They would grow large and wondrous and flowers would conquer the earth for a short while before their fruit was unveiled.

Little did Briar realize that some of the chickpeas were beginning to grow roots into the salad, sprouting suddenly and furiously. Someone shook him. "Briar!" Briar twitched, wide-eyed and shocked.

"What? What is it?" And then he saw the roots growing in his salad, and began to shake.

Magic.

His heart rate sped. Surely they would find him out now. No magic, had he said! Bah, the boy was lying, they would say. They would call him a liar, and then when Gorse found out he would make him leave. Magic was what had caused all of this. Magic was at the source of all of his problems. He had to hide it, but all of a sudden everyones' eyes were on him. Their eyes were intent on him. He had no chance of hiding.

He could hear them speaking. It was about him, he was sure. He heard the words "Magic... no one said... Discipline..." Yes, he would be disciplined. He was sure now that they would hit him, just like every adult had done in the past when he had wronged. They would hit him and hurt him and it wouldn't matter when he cried. But he wouldn't cry. He was ten, and ten year olds didn't do that. Hands squeezed his shoulders and muttered words into his ears, though he couldn't hear them through the numbness in his mind. He was going to have to leave Winding Circle now, he knew it.

Although he didn't remember walking there, he soon found himself sitting with Gorse, Moonstream, a woman that looked far nicer than the task she was surely about to take on named Lark, and a woman named Thorny-Rose or something who looked like she might soon bite his head off. They were in a small stone room, Moonstream's office, it seemed. Gorse was speaking, "Briar, it seems that we must have overlooked it when you came in here..." his voice faded away. "He's been like this since it happened," he explained.

"I'm sure he's just in shock," Lark said kindly. Briar looked at her for a moment, then cast his eyes down. Why was she being so kind when they both knew that they would be kicking him out soon enough? "I'm sure we could make room for him, although it might be a bit of an adjustment for the others."

"They can handle it." said Thorned-Flower.

"That's right, I'm sure. So we'll move him into Discipline Cottage tomorrow, Gorse? How does that sound?" Moonstream asked, her pretty eyebrows raised above her lightly wrinkled eyes.

"Maybe we should ask Briar how he feels about this.." Gorse said pensively.

"Most children don't want to go to Discipline," Moonstream informed them. "Rosethorn, Lark?" Rosethorn, not Thorned-Rose, Briar noted.

"So you're not kicking me out?" Briar asked, finally gathering enough courage to speak.

"Well, you'll be moving to a new residence. You'll be staying with Lark and Rosethorn in Discipline Cottage. You'll still be able to visit Gorse whenever you want-"

"I'll have to leave? I wont be his apprentice anymore?"

"No," Moonstream continued, "You will be Rosethorn's student. She will teach you plant magic-"

"I don't want to learn plant magic," Briar lied, "I want to stay where I am. Don't make me go!" he said, forcing the panic from his eyes.

"Maybe it is too much," said Gorse. "He's quite a good student. He really seems to enjoy it, uprooting him would be a bit cruel, don't you think? Why doesn't he stay with me most of the time as an apprentice, and he'll take a lesson with Rosethorn every week."

Rosethorn raised her eyebrows, "A lesson a week and he'll get nowhere."

"A day, then?" Gorse said.

Lark and Rosethorn looked at each other, and Lark sighed. "Perhaps it's for the best. To be honest, we don't have enough room for him as well. I'm sure we could sort something else if we needed to, but... If he's more comfortable, it could work like that for a while."

Briar's hands were clenched together tightly as he listened carefully. He would be working with his magic now, and sooner or later they would find out his secret, and then what would happen to him? He'd have to run, that's what.

* * *

I hope y'all have enjoyed this chapter. Sorry for the long wait! Just so you know the recipe came from the eHealthcare website. So, if you want to check it out then go ahead. If you liked (or even if you didn't) I'd love to hear your thoughts. 3 :)


	24. Chapter 24

One World, No Coincidences

Chapter 24

Every day at Discipline Ovik thanked the gods that he knew how to read. His father had provided well for his children, even his illegitimate ones. He knew arithmetic, too. It came with having a merchant father, the maths. He had hated it then, but just now he was loving it, because right now he was looking at a log of accounts left in Sandry's room from her uncle. It didn't take a lot of arithmetic for him to see that not only was Sandry noble and connected with the duke of Emelan, but she was also very, very rich. Feeling satisfied with himself he put the stack of documents back how he had found them and left Sandry's room careful not to be spotted. He checked outside the door before tiptoeing out.

"What were you doing in Sandry's room?" Briar asked. Ovik's head whipped around to the other boy. He hadn't seen him in the hall. In fact, he wasn't supposed to be there at all. He noticed him carrying a stack of books and narrowed his eyes.

"More importantly," he said, dodging the subject, "what are you doing with those books? We both know you can't even recognize your own name." Briar flushed.

"I can so," Briar replied lamely. "And don't try and change the subject."

"Look, I left my cards in her room," he said, though he had done no such thing, and took out the three cards from his belt that he always kept there. On it were a king, a queen, and a strange winged creature with eyes like hardened metal. Each was ornately decorated. Ovik had found them on the pirate's ship just over a year ago. He hadn't been able to help himself. He knew that if someone wanted them, they wouldn't have left them there like that. He never left them anywhere, but Briar didn't know that. The other boy looked suspiciously at the cards, but said nothing. "Are you satisfied?"

Briar said nothing, instead putting his hands to his hips where Ovik knew the other boy usually hid knives. Today though, Briar lacked the hard contours of the blades under his clothes. Ovik smirked. The other boy was defenseless, not that he was stupid enough to try anything with Briar in Discipline Cottage. Not that he was stupid enough to try anything with Briar, period. The other boy had the x's on the web between his fingers, marking him a thief. Ovik knew himself to be sometimes cruel and selfish, but he was not a thief. He thought of the cards, and revised his first thought. He was no professional thief. He was innocent. Slavery hadn't been a choice for him, not like it was for Briar. Briar had chosen to steal, which had gotten him arrested. He had chosen to try to escape the docks, which got him sold into slavery with Enahar. Ovik hadn't had any such choice.

"Don't try and pull your tricks with me, thief. I can see you have no knives. Did Gorse catch you with them again? Because you know that even Gorse won't put up with your stealing for long," he taunted.

Briar's lip curled into an expression of disgust, "I wouldn't knick Gorse's knives, Ovik, and you know it. You just don't want me to know something, and color me stupid, but you won't find me blind. I know you're up to something. I can see it in your face," he said, and without another word strode past him. Ovik glanced over his shoulder, fingering the cards that he still held in his hand. They gave him comfort somehow. The ink was even beginning to fade from his constant fingering. He slipped them back into his belt.

Downstairs Tris was reading, her hand idly stroking the dog, Little Bear. Last summer when they went to market, Sandry had seen the dog being beaten by a group of boys and had saved him with the help of Tris. Ovik would never forget the spinning spout of water ripping up the alley. Plump though she was, the girl radiated a reckless sort of power that gave him the crawls. She looked up, "Hullo, Ovik," she said.

He pointed at her book, "What are you reading?"

She looked pleased that he had asked. "It's about hurricanes," she said, "It's called _Wild, Wild Wind_. Niko brought it for me. We're doing hurricanes next."

"You must be thrilled," he said, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He didn't like Niko, and he liked books on wind even less. For a moment he thought that he had passed, but Tris was too sharp to be fooled by his charm. He realized that he didn't even try with her, and the thought made him slightly irritated with himself. He just found it so much _harder_ to be civil to Tris and Briar. The two of them always looked at him like he was an unpredictable storm cloud.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"Just spreading the joy of my company through the house," he said. She didn't look amused.

"No, Ovik. Why are you _here_," she gestured emphatically to their general surroundings.

"Here in this house? You know, sometimes I wonder about that, too. I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that, though, unless I jump off a roof or something," he replied. Tris looked disappointed, less in his answer itself, more in that he hadn't understood her meaning immediately. Well, he thought, it wasn't as though she was being very clear.

"No, Ovik. Why are you living in Discipline when even I can tell you don't have any magic."

Ovik felt the color leave his face, his skin went cold. "I have magic," he said.

"No you don't," she replied, "Not like we do. When I look at Briar, or Sandry, or Daja I can see thick pulses of magic darting every way under their skin, and it's getting steadier every day, but when I look at you all I see is the occasional flicker. Meditation has made your magic stronger, it's true, but you don't have nearly enough to need to be here." Before she could finish Ovik was already moving towards her, and by the end of her sentence he had slammed her against the chair, her shoulders pinned with his hands. Her last words came out in a panicked pitch.

"Shut your mouth you fat pig. I'd shut your fat mouth before anyone hears what comes out and realizes what a stupid girl you are," he hissed, not noticing the wild look of anger in Tris's eyes and the fizzing feel of the air, "You hide yourself in your books because you know when you leave them everyone will know you for who you really are. A no-good busy-body who's afraid of real people so she shuts herself up in books about unimportant things that no one else cares about just so that she can look down her high and mighty nose at all the little people who live in the real world. Well, you know what, I can see you for who you are, you stupid, fat-"

Tris slapped him. The skin of his cheek went hot, stinging with little needles of pain. "You, little-"

"Stop, or else you'll see what I really can do," she said. She was shaking with anger. Ovik felt a little proud that he had made her do that. "More importantly, I've seen who you really are. I've always thought you were a little off, and now I know I was right."

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked, sounding more like a threat than a question.

"I'm going to make sure Lark and Rosethorn know. I'm going to make sure Sandry knows. You aren't right, Ovik, and I'm going to make sure don't stay here."

Despite the hot anger that he felt through his skin, her words struck a shiver of fear into him. He needed to be here. Everything he ever wanted was here. "No you wont," he said, more out of desperation than conviction. Tris straightened, crackling with sparks of what looked like lightning.

"Oh yes, yes I will," she replied. And with that she stood with her book, snapping it shut with a thump, and went to the door. He couldn't let her go, he thought, not with her so close to saying anything.

"Niko knows," he said suddenly. Tris turned, slowly, her eyes sparkling with rage. "He's a great mage, so he must know. I'm not here for my magic, I'm here because I'm a hero. I saved you all." Tris shook her head, then.

"No," she said, "you didn't." She didn't look back as she left, her short figure marching up the stairs with that graceless movement that was so uniquely Tris.

It was then, in the aftermath, that Ovik realized how his skin was flushed and just how angry he was. He was sure his clothes had somehow rumpled themselves and now he was going to be forced to leave. He shouldn't have said those things to Tris, he thought, but she deserved them. How was he supposed to resist when she told him he didn't deserve to be here. Niko had put him in, so he had to be good enough to be there.

Soft footsteps alerted him to Sandry's entrance. There was nowhere in this house, he thought, where he could truly be alone. Sandry was never a disappointment, though. She had stopped wearing black mourning clothes a few months ago, and now her wardrobe was full of pretty blues and greens and yellows. Today she wore a blue dress, clearly of a fine material - Vedris would never let his favorite niece go without - and she was holding some embroidery.

He spoke first, "Sandry, hi."

She looked worried. "I heard some noise coming from this room. It sounded like you and Tris… what happened?"

He looked down, pretending to be bashful, but really just hiding his eyes. "Tris and I… had words."

As he had hoped, Sandry looked concerned but not angry. "Words? Why?"

"She said something to me and I… didn't take it very well to say the least. I just hope she'll forgive me," he replied. Sandry, he had discovered, was very easy to manipulate when fairness was concerned. She believed in truth and justice and second chances, and he believed in all of the same things, at least so long as she wanted him to.

"Of course she'll forgive you," Sandry said stubbornly.

Ovik just looked at her, "I think I should let her cool off, first."

"That's ridiculous," she said.

"You know how she can get." Ovik shrugged.

"At least tell me what she said!" Ovik liked that about Sandry, frustrating though it could get for him. She was mulish and stubborn and never followed anyone blindly. Not even him.

Ovik paused and pursed his lips for affect, allowing a pained expression to overcome his sharp features. "She insulted me. She said that in comparison to you, Briar, and Daja, my power was nothing."

"Oh," Sandry said. That was it. Ovik had hoped at least for an outraged cry of 'How dare she!', but clearly Tris wasn't the only one who held that opinion. "She shouldn't have said that," Sandry continued hastily.

"So you think she's right?" Ovik asked, unable to help himself.

Sandry promptly shook her head. "No, not at all. She just… look, what if I come with you to apologize tomorrow? Would that help?"

Ovik wasn't so sure it would, but he still said, "Okay." Sandry's worried expression broke into a look of relief.

"Good." She placed her hand lightly on his wrist, "It wouldn't be so bad if you tried to be friendlier with Tris, would it? She's really quite kind once you get to know her. She's just… prickly."

Ovik looked at her doubtfully. 'Kind' was not quite the word he would use to describe Tris. Virtually everything that he would use to describe her he had already said today, although, thinking back he realized he had forgotten ugly. Fat, he had remembered, but ugly he had not.

It was then that Lark entered the cottage, calling Sandry's name out as she did. The girl whipped around in surprise. "I think it's time we learn to spell bandages," she said with a worried expression on her face. Sandry looked surprised, but didn't question her teacher.

"We'll talk about this later," she told Ovik, and followed Lark to the room where they usually practiced Sandry's magic. Ovik bit his lips, eyes narrowing in thought. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Tris. Not because the girl had any of her own use, but because she was Sandry's friend, and if he wanted anything from Sandry, he would need Tris, too.

Briar was the first to admit that Rosethorn had an exceptional vocabulary for cursing. In fact, it went beyond that. Not only was her vocabulary remarkable, but her imagery was wonderfully imaginative. However, while she cursed on occasion for the odd act of stupidity (usually Briar's) he had never heard the older woman curse quite so strongly, or for quite so long. He lifted his head up from the weeds to look at her. Her eyes flamed and Briar just thanked the gods that he wasn't the one on the receiving end of that glare.

Not knowing her very well, he was scared to ask. It didn't help that she threatened to hang him in the well nearly every day - he could tell she meant it. She saw him looking at her though, and with the same amount of anger in her voice that she had used for her swearing she said, "I just got news from Emelan. There's an epidemic. It's been just a week since the first case and it's already out of the slums."

"What has that to do with you?" he asked.

"Dedicate Crane and I work together on finding cures to diseases," she said, looking at him sharply. She seemed like she were assessing him for something, but Briar couldn't tell for what. "Come on," she said suddenly. Briar just looked at her. "Don't stand there like you're daft, boy," she continued, "We're going to Crane's greenhouse. We're going to need to fix this, and you're going to learn something if it's the last thing I do."

Author's Note: I haven't written this story in a long time. I'm pretty sure that's what the beginning of every chapter says, but I apologize afresh for this one. Just to give you an update on how much time has passed since I began this story, I was in Grade 7 then, and I'm now in my first year of University. It's been fun, and I am still updating - if slowly. If nothing else it's a nice break from studying (I'm supposed to be writing an essay right now) and an easy way to just write. Anyways, point being, this is fun for me, and I hope it has been just as fun for you.

Thanks for reading, and please review!

-Liarra


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